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/ 

OF THE WORLD, 
WORLDLY 




BY 

MRS. FORRESTER 


AUTHOR OF 

DIANA CAREW,” “ MY LORD AND MY LADY,” “FAIR WOMEN,”, 
“ ALTHOUGH HE WAS LORD,” ETC. 



3 ^ 






V 


JUN 9 J- 

vt » 




NEW YORK 

LOVELL, CORYELL & COMPANY 

43, 45 AND 47 EAST TENTH STREET 




N 


7 






Copyright, 1892, 

BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 


rights reserved^ 






:X. 

* ■ 




OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER 1. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

It was this afternoon — only this afternoon. I was 
sitting in the firelight with the woman whom I 
love best in the world, and there had been a short 
interval of silence, an interval such as is embar- 
rassing in acquaintanceship, but is one of the most 
charming privileges of friendship. 

“ Anthony,” she said, in her low voice, which is 
a caress to the ear, “ why do you not write a 
book ? ” 

I looked up at her, and seeing that, although 
there was a smile on her lips, she was speaking 
with perfect seriousness, I answered, in unfeigned 
astonishment, 

“ I, my dear ! I write a book ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” she rejoined ; “ you have a great 
deal of leisure, your powers of observation are 
considerable, and you suffer horribly from being 
bored.” 


6 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ Your first and last propositions are undeni- 
able,” I said, “ but should I make use of the 
former pretext to inflict the latter misery on my 
kind?” 

“ I look upon authors as benefactors of their 
species,” returned Athene. 

It will be understood that my liege lady did 
not receive the name of Athene at her baptism, 
but that it is the one by which I am pleased to 
call and to love her. Shall I go on to say that the 
love wherewith I love her is not the ephemeral sen- 
timent commonl}^ known as “ being in love,” but 
the love born of affection, of sympathy given and 
received, of kindness and esteem, of a companion- 
ship delightful to me, and which I would fain be- 
lieve her when she tells me, as she does sometimes 
to rejoice me, has been a consolation' to her in a 
life darkened by many sorrows. 

“ Benefactors of their species ! H’m ! ” I ob- 
served, very dubiously. 

“ Do not be ungrateful ! ” she exclaimed. 
“ Think of all the delightful hours of your child- 
hood, when you have been carried away from a 
work-a-day world to the regions of enchantment ; 
remember how your pulses have been stirred by 
tales of exploits, adventures, heroic deeds ; con- 
sider the dull evenings, or rather the evenings 
which would have been dull but for the author’s 
magic power to take you out of yourself, away 
from your gloomy thoughts, and make you laugh 
and cry, and love and hate, and wake at last to 


7 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

find the hearth cold, the lamp growing dim, and 
the lonely evening you had dreaded fled.” 

“ And pray. Madam,” I inquired, looking into 
her eyes, which sparkled with enthusiasm, “do 
you see in me an embryo Thackeray, a Kingsley, 
a Whyte Melville ? ” 

“ Who knows ! ” smiled Athene. “ Time was, 
I daresay, when they were very far from expecting 
the fame which became theirs. But in truth, my 
dear Anthony, I am thinking more of the beneficial 
effect authorship might have on yourself, than of 
the inestimable boon you are to confer upon man- 
kind. I have noticed, for some time, a tendency on 
your part to grow morbid and ” 

“ Ah ! ” I interrupted, “ and, as a cure, you 
suggest that I should pour the poison of my own 
mind into others as a way of ridding myself of it ? 
Well,” hurrying on that she might not have a 
chance to reply, “ whom shall I take for my model ? 
Do you prefer the pathetic unhealthiness of Alfred 
de Musset, the microscopic analysis of unpleasant- 
ness of Bourget, or the brutal, cynical realism 
of Zola?” 

“ Do not be angry,” she said. “ And I am far 
from suggesting that to write a morbid book would 
be a cure for morbid feelings. Very much the 
reverse — the mind grows by what it feeds on. 
Realism ! I hate realism — nakedness can only 
charm by its beauty ; no great sculptor ever chose 
deformed limbs and festering sores for his subject. 
But as beauty and goodness might be apt to be- 


8 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


come monotonous in the pages of a book, — seeing 
that only that which is human and life-like appeals 
to one’s feelings and sympathies, — I would veil 
and drape sin and ugliness, neither giving a senti- 
mental glamour to them, nor yet revealing their 
moral and physical deformity, to pander to coarse 
minds or to disgust pure ones. The most success- 
ful hooks are always those which appeal most to 
human nature. We are all so prone to think our- 
selves original and different from our fellow-men 
that it comes upon us with a pleasant surprise to 
meet with one’s own thoughts and feelings in a 
book. The merit of a painting is the exactness 
with which it represents the original ; the charm 
of writing is the fidelity with which it describes 
the emotions of the human heart. The stor}^ 
which tells of passions that we have felt and re- 
sisted or succumbed to ; of the joys we have hoped 
for, the sorrows we have known, must always have 
an immense charm for us.” 

“ And what,” I asked, with some bitterness, “ is 
there in the storehouse of my memory to charm or 
please ? The story of one who aspires and desires 
without fruition, who has grown sick with disap- 
pointment, is stale and dull and oft-told.” 

“ My poor Anthony,” she said, and laid a gentle 
hand, whose touch soothed me like magic, on mine, 
“ that is the very tale that appeals to the greatest 
number, since it is the lot of so many. But 
come,” — ^brightly — “ that is not the theme I am 
proposing to you. You have a vivid imagination 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


9 


— you can fancy happy things — you can look 
round and take in the bright side of life, and paint 
in rose and sky-colour and gold.” 

“ Lookers-on see most of the game,” I said ; 
“ but what a poor part to be the looker-on and 
chronicler of those who live, possess, enjoy ! To 
be doomed to sit amongst the spectators when your 
soul is with the combatants in the arena, when 
your pulses are throbbing and your brain reeling 
with the lust of battle — to lounge in a stall whilst 
the actors on the stage love, intrigue, hate — to sit 
with idle hands whilst you burn to be up and do- 
ing — sit with note-book and |)encil in hand to make 
a bald sketch of scenes and emotions in which you 
are allowed no share. Oh ! ” I cried, with the bit- 
terness which the thought always brings to me, 
“ wliy does nature mate lier bodies so badly with 
their souls ? — the world is always looking for and 
demanding a harmony which does not exist. She 
gives to the poor cripple a passionate love and de- 
sire for woman^s beauty — an enormous capacity for 
devotion and tenderness. But it is sacrilege in the 
world’s eyes that he should lift his gaze to a fair 
woman ; he may have twice the heart of Apollo or 
Hercules, but the incongruity of his deformity with 
her loveliness is disgusting and revolting. A 
plain woman, a deformed man, has no right to ex- 
pect love — it is an impertinence — love is for 
beauty ; if the others suffer lieart-hun'ger, let them 
hide their pangs, which excite derision, not sym- 
pathy.” 


10 


OF THE WOBLI), WOBLBLY. 


“My dear,” interposed Athene softly, “what 
does this tirade mean ? You are not a cripple nor 

ugly.” 

I made an impatient gesture. 

“ I am a mediocrity,” I answered — “ so ham- 
pered by indifferent health that I am as little 
fitted to run the race of life or to enter the lists 
with the young and strong as the cripple of whom 
I sjjoke.” 

“ It depends on what your ambition is,” replied 
Athene, “ whether you are hampered by the 
absence of physical strength and health. Those 
attributes are not, as a rule, given to making their 
possessors sympathetic. And what is a hero ? Is 
it the man who has caused the most blood to be 
shed, who has laid waste the most homes, made 
desolate the most hearths, broken the most 
hearts? Or is it he who has wiped away the 
most tears, comforted the greatest number of 
mourners, and helped those who were oppressed ? 
Once,” pursued Athene, with a tender light in 
her eyes, “ if I had been given my choice, I would 
have liked to be Helen of Troy or Cleopatra, but 
now I would far rather be the woman, whoever 
she may have been, probably never known to fame, 
who gave comfort and sympathy to the greatest 
number of sorrowing hearts.” 

“ One like yourself,” I interposed, but she 
stopped me with a gesture and a little frown. 

“ Do not ! ” she exclaimed; “you hurt me when 
you speak like that. Nothing gives such pain as 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. H 

undeserved praise. Cit is a grief to me every day 
of my life that I do so little for others J Heaven 
kuows I have no right to preach; not even to 
lecture,” — in a lighter tone — “ but, come, we are 
getting away from our point.” 

‘‘ The point ? ” I inquired. 

“ Yes, the point. The point is the hook which 
you are to write. To please me, think it over 
to-night,” she added, in her most coaxing voice. 

The door opened, and another visitor was 
announced. I rose at once. 

“ I fly to do your bidding,” I said ; “ d demain.'^^ 

‘‘ A demain,^^ she repeated. “ Be sure and bring 
your MS.” 

And she smiled upon me the smile I loved, and 
which seemed to make the darkness so much 
greater when I left her dear presence. 

I have dined in my rooms, and I have been 
thinking, thinking, thinking — I would do any- 
thing to please Athene, and after the first shock 
of surprise at her suggestion, the first instinct 
to combat it, a reaction set in, and I began to 
regard the idea with less disfavour. “ Why not ? ” 
I said to myself, as I ate my dinner, “ why not ? ” 
I repeated, as I lit my first cigar. “ At any rate I 
can try,” and the thought became more and more 
pleasing, until, as I flung the cigar end into the 
fire, I pronounced resolutely to my own mind, “ I 
will.” 

Having got so far, it became necessary to con- 
sider of what and of whom I would write. Was 


12 


OT THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


the work to be real or imaginary ? there must any- 
how be a foundation in fact — I could not make 
bricks without straw. But the mere prosaic facts 
that I knew of people’s lives were but like ravel- 
lings which a fine imagination and a skilful hand 
alone could weave into a brocade wherewith to 
clothe my puppets. If I built a castle in Spain 
out of my fancy, it could be no habitation for real 
people, and real people would not care to read of 
it. “ What on earth,” I reflected, “ do I know of 
the inmost feelings of any human being except 
myself? I hear them talk, I see them smile — 
sometimes, and I dislike the sight intensely, I see 
them weep — but what do I know of the comedies 
and tragedies going on in their hearts, except 
what they are pleased to show me, or have not 
the wit to conceal from me. It wants, a genius 
like Thackeray’s to make the commonplace not 
only interesting but thrilling. I presume Athene, 
when she bade me write a book, was thinking of a 
work of fiction — a novel. The theme of a novel 
must be love, and what do I know of love, save in 
di*eams ? Ah, God ! if such things were possible 
as one has sometimes visions of when the eyes are 
blind, the ears deaf, the lips dumb to the outside 
world ; unconscious of all but the lovely mirage 
that floats between heart and brain ! ” 

“ What is love ? ” I asked once of Athene, and 
as I spoke, a smile crossed my lips at tlie recollec- 
tion of the witty French reply to the same question. 

“ What is love ? ” She repeated my words in so 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


13 


earnest a voice, and with so solemn a look, that the 
levity faded at once from my thoughts and lips. 
“ What is love ? It is the only happiness of life, 
the one thing which makes us content to endure — 
the key that opens the gate of Heaven, and shows 
us a glimpse of the glory within. Love makes us 
centre all our joy, our life, our desire, our hope in 
another human being, whose welfare is dearer to 
us than our own, and whose happiness we make.” 

“ Whose happiness we make ! ” I echoed. “ That 
implies that the love is mutual, reciprocal.” 

“ But of course,” she replied, more earnestly and 
more solemnly. “ How can there be love unless 
there is the desire of two hearts, one towards the 
other. Love is as much a dual product as is any 
animate thing.” 

‘‘ Surely not,” I said. “ Has not one read of the 
great love that a man has had for a woman, or a 
woman for a man, when it has not been even faintly 
reciprocated ? ” 

Athene smiled, with a little air of superiority. 

“'My dear Anthony,” she observed, “love’s poor 
name is taken in vain a thousand times every hour. 
The light, passing fancy of a boy is called love — the 
selfish, sensual instinct a man often feels for a 
woman or a woman for a man, and which has no 
more of love in it than the desert has rose gardens, 
or the night sunshine, is called love. There is only 
one love, just as there is only one diamond, though 
there are a hundred spurious imitations.^ Love is 
the attraction of two beings of opposite sexes to 


14 OF THE WORLD, [WORLDLY. 

each other; the sentiment which draws them to- 
gether mentally and physically, makes them long 
to pour out their souls to each other, to look into 
each other’s eyes ; to be clasped in each other’s 
arms. Love can make Heaven of a desert with the 
beloved one, or a desert of Heaven without him. 
Love is affection crowned by passion, and, through 
it, reaching the apotheosis of human bliss.” 

“ Should not the highest love be passionless ? ” 

I asked, with the secret intention of drawing on ’ 
my fair interlocutor. 

She looked at me with a fine scorn. 

“ Love without passion ! Grrand merci I But, 
my dear Anthony, you speak of passion as though 
it were something low and degrading. Pray, do 
you know what passion is ? Passion is the culmina- 
tion of feeling — the straining of heart and nerves 
to their fullest tension. To do a thing with pas- 
sion is to do it with all one’s might — we may be 
passionately glad, passionately angry in a just 
cause ; we may passionately desire to be good, no- 
ble, generous, unselfish ; and, when we love pas- 
sionately, it means that our every thought, ‘\vish, 
hope, desire is centered on another being, and that 
self is merged, swallowed up, forgotten in him. 
There is to me something contemptible in giving 
love where it is unasked, unreturned — it is a want 
of self-respect — indeed, in real life when one sees 
either man or woman heaping devotion on another 
who is indifferent to it, the sight inspires a kind of 
equally balanced pity and scorn. It is different 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


15 


where great love has been mutual and has died 
from the heart of one — the other vindicates his 
faithfulness by loving on.” 

“ You say,” I interposed, “ that there is only one 
kind of love. But what of the love of parents to 
children ; of mortals to God ? ” 

“Do not I tell you that love is miscalled a 
thousand times an hour ? ” she replied. “ What 
we feel for our children is affection of the deepest 
and purest kind — what we feel towards God is the 
most exalted worship. But love — love is for the 
sexes, and at its best combines all the other ele- 
ments.” 

Athene spoke in tones of the deepest conviction, 
and, though I thought her ideas a little fantastic, 
I did not argue the point with her because — well, 
because I love her so much that what she says and 
does always seems good in my eyes. 


16 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER 11. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

The clock on the chimney-piece struck one, “ like 
a crystal ball falling into a silver bowl,” and I 
was no further advanced. No reality which I 
could clothe with romance had occurred to me, 
and I thought I would wait and see if the night 
brought, as it is said to bring, counsel. I should 
have retired with much more complacency had I 
known that the links of the chain I wanted were 
already in the forge. Even when I found the first 
on my breakfast-table in the morning, I was far 
from recognising it as such. This first link was 
a letter, and ran as follows : 

“ My dear old Tony, 

“ Wish me joy ! I am 
the happiest man alive.” (After this not very 
original opening, I was of course prepared for what 
followed.) “ I am going to marr}? the dearest girl 
in the world, and you know her, Violet Wood — 
dear little Violet ! I wonder if you guessed that 
anything was up ; you’re generally pretty sharp. 
Master Tony. You can’t think how heavenly it is 
to be really in love, nicely in love with a pure, good 
woman ; only it makes me feel such an awful brute 


OF THE WOULD, WOULDLY, 


17 


and blackguard sometimes, and as if one was not 
worthy for her to wipe her dear little feet on. 
When I remember the horrid ribald jokes I have 
ma'de about marriage, and the things I have dared 
to say about women, my ears tingle, and I feel 
inclined to ask someone to kick me. I should not 
dare to write like this to most of my pals, who 
would scoff at me in their brutal way, but you, my 
dear old Tony, are a good sort, and have not led a 
loose life and had the edges rubbed off your belief 
in goodness and that sort of thing.” (I read this 
panegyric with very mingled feelings.) “Vi has 
been awfully well brought up — you know what 
a dear her mother is ! — and there is nothing fast or 
slangy about her, but she is just like her own dear, 
modest little name. Don’t think me a vain ass, 
old chap, if I tell you that I know she is fond of 
me — all I can say is, ‘ God do so to me and more 
also,’ if I don’t make her a good and faithful hus- 
band. And now I’m coming to the point of my 
letter. It is going to be soon. Vi was coy, and 
would not consent at first, but the old lady has 

been awfully good ” (“ The old lady ! ” I 

ejaculated, and the vision of a very handsome 
woman who looks thirty-five and has still more 
admirers than her daughter came before my eyes. 
“ The old lady ! Heavens ! ”) “ the old lady was 
awfully good and backed me up, and it is to come 
off in two months, and I want you, like a dear old 
chap, to be best man. I don’t care to have my 
brother — ^youknow we never were particular chums. 


18 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

and that old scoundi*el Bob, who has been Pythias 
or Pylades or someone of that sort to me in the 
shadier scenes of my career, is not good enough for 
the place ; but if you, with your solemn old phiz, 
are there to back me up I shall feel so much more 
respectable and comfortable in every way. Mrs. 
Wood and Vi would both like it awfully, and so 
write by return or wire and say when you will 
come and dine, (of course I dine with them every 
night,) and we’ll talk it all over, and I bet I shall 
make you open your eyes in my new character of 
engaged man. I know you won’t refuse. For 
heaven’s sake don’t invent some infernal excuse. 
I’d do it for you like a shot if you were in the 
same boat. Ever yours, 

« J. L. K.” 

I smiled grimly to myself, then I sighed. Well, 
anyhow, they were standing at the open gates of 
heaven now, looking in with rapt eyes at the radiance 
and the glory, but how long before the gates will 
turn on their golden hinges, and little by little shut 
out the sight of the roses of Paradise and leave 
them staring at the impenetrable wall of disappoint- 
ment and disillusion ? Is it better to have seen 
that lovely vision, or does the sight make life darker 
and more desolate afterwards ? How can I tell, I 
who in all human probability shall never have even 
the most far-off glimpse ! 

I presently descended again to more prosaic con- 
siderations. The first of these was that I must 


OF THE WOULD, WOliLDLY. 


19 


give my friend a wedding present. On this occa- 
sion it would not be a grudging tribute, as I confess 
without shame it often has been ; and, remembering 
the axiom that he who gives quickly gives twice, I 
resolved to visit the emporium for gifts in Bond 
Street, profoundly ignorant of the fact that I was 
going to find there my second link. 

Having read the paper, written my letters, one 
amongst them to Jim, accepting, most sorely against 
the grain, the honour he desired to thrust upon me, 
and fixing the day when I would dine with his 
mother-in-law elect if convenient, I took my hat 
and strolled off to Thornhill’s. As I stopped at the 
door, a smart brougham drove up and from it de- 
scended a lovely woman. The adjective is not ex- 
travagant — she was, nay is, a lovely woman, one of 
the most fashionable and admired beauties of the 
day. Years ago I knew her well, but of late I have 
met her seldom, as I go little into society and scarcely 
at all amongst the set who nowadays constitute 
what is called the “ smartest ” section, though by no 
means recruited from the best blood, the finest wit, 
or the most superior virtue. Nay, it is a strange 
mixture of Jews, Greeks, Americans, rastaeueres, 
pretty nobodies, doves whose soiled plumes are con- 
cealed by electro-plating, together with a small 
percentage of the exalted and noble of the earth. 
Smart society has an amazing amount of gilt, but 
very little gold — it does not aim at being good, noble, 
or clever ; it wants first to be en Svidence, secondly 
to be amused if possible, and above all things to 


20 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY 


be envied. I should make a poor show in it. I do 
not aspire to it, hence I studiously efface myself if 1 
come, in contact with any of its members. There- 
fore, I would have turned into the shop without 
seeking recognition from the fair one had she not 
called me by name. 

“ Is that you, Mr. Courtland ? Where have you 
been hiding all this time ? You have not forgotten 
me, I hope ? ” 

And she vouchsafed me the most charming smile, 
and put out a perfectly-gloved hand ; and I — why 
should I make any pretence about it ? — I was not a 
little pleased and flattered. 

“ Certainly I have not forgotten you,” I said, 
with some emphasis on the pronoun ; “ but how 
could I expect you to remember me ? ” 

Of course it was a hanalitS of the worst kind, but 
I am seldom brilliant when taken unawares. 

“ I never forget an old friend,” she said, sweetly. 
“ You have come to buy a wedding present. So 
have I. Mine is for Lady May. Who is yours 
for?” 

“ Someone you used to know in the old days,” 
I replied. “ Jim Keith.” 

“ I know him now,” she answered. “ Whom is 
he going to marry ? ” 

I told her, and she said “Ah ! ” in a tone which 
implied that the Woods were not of her world. By 
this time we were in the shop, and two of the at- 
tendants were paying her the obsequious homage 
that her beauty and fashion entitled her to. 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


21 


“ Do help me,” she cried, appealing to me. “ I 
want something pretty and original, and not expen- 
sive. These wedding presents are so ruinous, aren’t 
they ? and people will keep on getting married — so 
inconsiderate of them, is it not? Isn’t this quite 
charming, but — ten pounds ? — out of the question. 
I want something quite lovely,” with a bewitch- 
ing smile at the shopman, “ for about thirty shil- 
lings.” 

I read in his eye that he longed to present her 
with the most costly object on the counter — such 
is the power of beauty and the weakness of man. 
She gave an infinity of trouble, or what would have 
been trouble had she been a plain woman, and then 
declared herself quite unable to make up her mind. 

“ Let me help you,” she said at last, turning 
to me. “ If it is for a man, it must certainly be 
something connected with smoking;” and, having 
turned over a great many more articles, she in- 
sisted on my buying an inlaid cigar-box which I 
did not particularly care for, and which cost five 
pounds more than I had intended to give. 

But her manner was so irresistible, and she smiled 
at me so charmingly, and talked in such a confi- 
dential manner, that I was as wax in her hands. As 
I put her into her brougham, she said, 

“Won’t you come and see me? I am longing 
to have a talk about old times.” ^ 

Of course I replied that I should be delighted. 
“But when?” she asked. “Unless we fix a 
time, I know you will not come. Why not to-day ? 
— to-day at five ? ” 


22 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


“ That would be too much happiness for one 
day,” I replied. “Let me come some day next 
week.” 

“No,” she said, with pretty imperiousness, “to- 
day.” 

“ I shall find you surrounded by a crowd of wor- 
shippers,” I objected. 

“ You shall find me alone, if you like,” she re- 
plied. “I will be ‘Not at home’ to everyone 
else.” 

“ That is more than I can expect,” I said. “ But, 
if you command me, I must perforce obey. At 
five, then.” 

“ At five,” she said, with a smile that would have 
beguiled an oyster, and drove off. 

I will confess my weakness. As I turned to 
walk away, a delightful feeling of importance crept 
over me and made me feel at least two inches taller. 
It was really benevolent of Fate for once to arrange 
that two gilded youths with whom I had a slight 
acquaintance, and who I knew instinctively thought 
of me with pitying condescension, if at all, should 
be passing at the moment. Their “ How are you’s ” 
were of unprecedented cordiality. I own it frankly, 
I was flattered by these marks of favour from a 
lovely woman. I would not swear that I did not 
scent a possible bonne fortune. I know the air 
which had seemed muggy and depressing an hour 
ago had now a subtle exhilaration in it, which 
caused me to walk with an elastic gait quite un- 
usual to me. I turned into my club, for lunch, and 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 23 

found myself reflecting that from half-past one to 
five was a very long time. How I had misjudged 
that woman ! I had over and over again avoided 
meeting her eye because I had fancied that, now 
she was a fashionable beauty, she would not care 
to be reminded of old friends and old times. And 
here she was as unaffected, as charming as in the 
days when Vivian Lloyd and I used to row her 
about on the river, and I thought it was going to 
be a match between them. Poor old Vivian ! Ah ! 
Fate that had been so lavish to her had been a 
sorry step-mother to him. An hour ago I should 
have accepted any fresh bit of gossip about Mrs. 
Vernon, however scandalous, with indifference — 
now, if anyone had presumed to breathe a hint 
against her, he would probably have had serious 
cause to regret his indiscretion. 

It is strange how a little civility from a celebrity 
can change us from willing detractors or indifferent 
bystanders to enthusiastic partisans. I cafight my- 
self wondering several times, if she had been in 
earnest in promising to be “ not at home ” to 
any other caller. Why should she show me such 
marked favour? As, however, one is seldom so 
much surprised at being singled out for distinction 
as our friends are in our behalf, I got accustomed 
to the idea, and was almost ready to believe that 
Athene was right when she said I had not a suffi- 
ciently good opinion of myself. 

Soon after the appointed time, having arrayed 
myself with great care, I rang the bell of a small 


24 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


house in May Fair ; a minute later I was ushered 
into the presence of my fair, and experienced a 
thrill of joy as she said to the servant, 

“ I will not see anyone else.” 

I took in the mise-en-scene at a glance. It was 
essentially the room of a pretty woman of the period. 
Screens, couches, low chairs, tables laden with sil- 
ver nicknacks, photographs, quantities of flowers, 
tastefully draped brocades of gorgeous hues, Dres- 
den china ornaments, palms, all the numberless et 
ceteras that go to make up a frame suitable for a 
charming portrait. I have a certain knowledge of 
upholstery, and even of women’s dress, which con- 
fession will probably earn me the contempt of the 
male reader; but, as Fate has not permitted me to 
indulge much in athletic exercises, I have been com- 
pelled to cultivate tastes of a less masculine order. 
My hostess, in a soft white gown cunningly embroi- 
dered in gold, rose from her amber cushions to greet 
me. * 

“ It is so good of you to come,” she said. “ Let 
me give you some tea.” 

And I was allowed to sit on the couch beside her 
while she ministered to my wants, and for full ten 
minutes I remained in the delightful belief that it 
was for the pleasure of my society that she had bid- 
den me to her house and denied herself to all other 
callers. An indescribable hien Stre pervaded my 
senses — no man worships the beautiful more de- 
voutly than I, Anthony Courtland, and I was sit- 
ting close beside a woman whom many people 


OF THE WORLD, }VORLDLY. 


25 


asserted to be the loveliest woman in London, and 
whom all admitted to be one of the loveliest. A 
great bowl of purest white lilac stood on a table at 
her right hand, and delicate spiral glasses held rare 
pale orchids — costly tributes, no doubt, from some 
of her numerous slaves, for the humblest votary 
may bring his floral offering, which even the most 
churlish of husbands could not forbid. And I had 
been given to understand that to this last order 
Captain Vernon was far from belonging. Dia- 
monds flashed from the white fingers with which she 
poured out my nectar ; her tea-gown was a triumph of 
art — everything about her bespoke a taste for luxury, 
and the apparent power to gratify it. My enchant- 
ment lasted just ten minutes by the clock, for as a 
silvery chime proclaimed the quarter after five, she 
said suddenly, 

“ You and Vivian Lloyd are great friends, are 
you not ? ” 

• At her words a chill crept through me ; in a 
moment instinct told me that it was to talk of him 
that she had brought me here and showed me all 
these signal marks of favour. I wonder if she re- 
marked the change in my voice which w^s so un- 
pleasantly patent to myself as I replied, 

“ Oh, yes, I know him very well indeed.” 

What a fool ! what a brute you are ! that disa- 
greeable thing known as the “ still small voice ” kept 
saying to me. Fool to imagine you could have the 
faintest interest for this lovely woman, brute to 
speak of the best fellow you know in such a cold, 
grudging tone. 


26 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


She must have remarked my altered voice, for 
she paused a moment, and then said — 

“ Oh, I thought you were very great friends ! ” 

“ So we are,” I answered eagerly, trying to make 
amends for my momentary coldness — “ the greatest. 
Vivian is the best fellow I know.” 

“ Ah ! ” with a little sigh. “ That is what I • 
heard — that is what I thought.” Her small head 
was thrown back against the golden pillow ; she 
was looking straight at me from her liquid brown 
eyes, and her fingers were twisting her rings in a 
preoccupied, absent manner. 

“ Do ySu remember those dear old times on the 
river the summer before the crash came, when you 
and he used to row me about ? What a summer it 
was ! There has never been so bright or warm an 
one since, I think. You used to sing Moore’s mel- 
odies to us, and he would join in now and then. 
What a charming voice he had ! ” 

“ Yes,” I answered — “ if it had only been cul- 
tivated, he might have taken to the stage.” 

“ Does he ever sing now ? ” she asked. 

“ Very rarely. He is very modest, you know, 
and has g poor opinion of anything he does him- 
self.” 

And she went on reflectively, 

“ I think he was the best looking and the man- 
liest man I ever knew.” - 

I had conquered my chagrin by now, and could 
respond heartily enough. 

Evidently she was in a mood for confidences. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


27 


“ He was the only man I ever loved,” she went 
on — her eyes were bent on her rings now, and she 
spoke in a very low voice. For a lady with a hus- 
band, and one whom she had presumably married for 
love, this was rather a strange confession, and I felt 
slightly embarrassed in what manner to receive it. 
Whilst I was hesitating about my rejoinder she pro- 
ceeded : 

“ Did you ever know that I was engaged to 
him ? ” 

“ No,” I said, with some surprise. “ I had no 
idea of it.” 

“ I was. For three days ; three little, ^lort, happy 
days, and then came the telegram saying his father 
was dead and all the di*eadful truth came out about 
his being ruined.” 

“ I was in Australia then,” I remarked. “ You 
know I was away for two years travelling for my 
health, and I knew nothing of Colonel Lloyd’s 
death or Vivian’s change of prospects until long 
after.” 

“ He gave me up,” she proceeded, in a low 
voice, and I saw that her beautiful eyes were dim 
with tears and looked away. “ There was noth- 
ing else for it. If I had waited until now, it would 
have been no use.” 

I hope,” I said, “ that they will make liim a 
partner next year. It is quite on the cards — in- 
deed, I believe it is almost a certainty. If ever a 
man deserved to succeed, it is he. To think that 
he who all his life had seemed one of fortune’s 


28 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


darlings should have had his career blighted just 
at the outset, and that he should have had such 
pluck in standing up against such a bitter blow. 
How nobly he behaved all through, and what a 
son he was to his mother, and she a poor selfish, 
complaining creature who never half valued his 
sacrifice.” 

“ He behaved as I should have expected him 
to behave,” said Mrs. Vernon. “ Ah ! ” and I saw 
her hand clench amongst the folds of her gown — 
“ what might not a man like that have made of a 
woman.” 

“ A woman whom he loved would be sure to be 
a happy woman,” I answered. “ And she would 
be a good woman, or I do not think he would care 
for her. He has such exalted ideas about women.” 

“ Does he like anyone ? does he care for any- 
one ? ” she asked quickly. “ Is there any chance 
of his marrying ? ” 

“ I think not,” I replied. “ He always laughs 
and says, ‘ A wife is a luxury that I cannot 
afford, so I never allow myself to think of mar- 
riage.’ ” 

“ Why does he not marry a woman with money ? ” 
she said. “ He might marry anyone.” 

“ I have discussed the matter with him,” I an- 
swered. “ He says that for the woman to have 
the money is an inverted order of things, the man 
should be the one to give — not to receive — he 
is placed in a false position, and if he had any 
spirit would be galled by it a dozen times a day. 


OF THE WOBLI), WOBLDLY, 


29 


And he has old-fashioned ideas. He thinks love 
absolutely indispensable to marriage. And per- 
haps,” I added, looking at her, “ there may be a 
reason for his forswearing marriage which I did not 
suspect until to-day.” 

“ He has forgotten me long ago,” she said, in a 
tone in which I detected a shade of pique. “ Only 
the other night I was coming out from the play 
and met him at the door. I asked him to come 
and see me, but he did not even pretend to accept 
my invitation. He excused himself, said he was 
a busy man, and had seldom time to make calls, 
and did not go into society.” 

Mrs. Vernon raised herself from her cushions 
with great vivacity. 

“ I want him to come — he must come — make him 
come,” and she looked at me with such pleading 
eyes that I was willing to put myself to consider- 
able trouble to do her bidding. “ I want a friend,” 
she went on, almost with passion ; “ a real friend. 
Ah, you don’t know how badly I want one.” 

“ You want friends ? ” I echoed. “ Why, you 
must have more friends than any woman in Lon- 
don.” 

« 

“ Friends ! ” she cried, with scorn. “ Do you 
imagine I do not know the value of my so-called 
friends and their professions. If an accident hap- 
pened to me to-night, and I were disfigured or 
became an incurable invalid, how many of them do 
you suppose would be left to me in a month ? But 
with Vivian,” and she dwelt with a tender inflex- 


30 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY. 


ion on his name, “ it would be different — if he were 
my friend, he would never give me up again, what- 
ever happened. I want you to promise me, promise 
me that you will make him come to me, that you 
will bring him here. When shall you see him ? ” 

“ He is dining with me on Friday.” 

“ Friday ! I do not like Friday,” and she drew 
her straight brows together. “It is an unlucky 
day.” 

“ I will put off talking of you to him till another 
day, then,” I said. 

“No, no, do not do that. I am not really super- 
stitious. It is absurd, is it not ? ” looking eagerly 
at me. “ I never knew anything bad happen on a 
Friday more than any other day. I have really 
only one superstition, and that is against wearing 
opals.” I 

“ Why ? ” I inquired. 

“ I will tell you another time,” she said. “ Do 
you think,” wistfully, “ you could persuade him to 
come and lunch here with you on Sunday ? No, 
not Sunday — there will he a lot of people, and I 
could not talk to him as I should like to. Persuade 
him to come some afternoon next week, and come 
yourself on Sunday, and tell me what he says.” 

“ I will not come to luncheon,” I replied. “ I 
will call about this time.” 

“Come late then,” she rejoined. “Sunday is 
always a tiresome afternoon. So many people come 
then, and I dare not say, ‘ Not at home.’ ” 

I rose to go, quite enthusiastic to do her bidding. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


31 


But as I walked homewards the charm of her pres- 
ence and her entreaties faded from my mind, com- 
mon sense came in and reminded me very forcibly 
that I should not be doing Vivian a particularly 
good turn by bringing him into contact with a 
beautiful woman whom he had once loved and who 
could be nothing to him now ; added to which, 
knowing his resolute will and strong good sense, I 
thought it highly improbable that he would allow 
me to influence him against his better judgment. 
However, I had pledged my word, and must abide 
by it. 


32 


OF THE WOELD, WOELDLY, 


CHAPTER III. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

“ Athene, what do you think of Mrs. Vernon ? ” 

I had been dining with my beloved, and we 
were sitting over the wood fire in her pretty bou- 
doir, which I was wont to consider the most charm 
ing room in Londoi^ associating it as I did with 
the remembrance of the happiest hours of my life. 
She repeated my question with a thoughtful air. 

“ But in what sort of way ? ” she asked. “ Am 
I to give an opinion on her beauty, fashion, virtue, 
talents, — what, Anthony ? ” 

“ Take up your parable,” I replied, “ and tell me 
all that you think about her, except of her beauty, 
which you, being what you are, are not at all likely 
to depreciate.” 

I had mentioned at dinner, in a casual way, the 
meeting at Thornhill’s and my afternoon call. I 
had not yet referred to Vivian Lloyd, because con- 
versation at dinner must always be of a more or 
less disjointed character, unless one takes the ser- 
vants who wait upon one into confidence, and this 
neither Athene nor I approved of. Later on she 
would hear all. I had no secrets from Athene. 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 


33 


“ I think,” she said, “that Mrs. Vernon is placed 
in a position of the greatest trial, difficulty, and 
temptation. She is an alien in a charmed circle, 
some of whose members pet whilst the others tol- 
erate her. If she ceased to be the plaything of the 
former, the latter would turn upon her and peck 
her out of the brood, only too delighted to get the 
opportunity. She is out of her sphere, and yet it 
would take a stronger head than hers to realise 
how insecure her position is, or even to feel the 
real humiliation of it, underlying the apparent 
honour. It is curious how women will fawn upon 
another woman whom they despise in their hearts. 
The great ladies, who do not think their parties 
complete without her, look upon her contemp- 
tuously as a parvenu whom they are civil to for 
expediency’s sake ; they know she may return to 
her obscurity to-morrow and that they will promptly 
forget her existence. She, if she ever thinks, must 
know it herself.” 

“ She does,” I replied, “ she said as much to me 
this afternoon.” 

“That,” said Athene, “must be a mortifying 
thought to a woman who has any pride. Then 
again she mixes with these fashionable people who 
are rich, or who at all events spend a great deal of 
money, and her husband has only a moderate in- 
come. She is forced into accepting gifts or their 
equivalent, and that exposes her to ill-natured 
remarks.” 

“ Of course,” I interposed, “ if a woman takes 
3 


34 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


money from men, it is natural that people should 
make remarks. Do you think she does take 
money ? Do you think she is not straight ? ” 

“ Straight, signifying virtuous ? ” 

“ Well, yes, I suppose so.” 

‘‘ Well, my dear, upon my word I do not know. 
If my husband had twelve hundred a year and I 
lived at the rate of three thousand, and allowed 
other men to make up the difference, I am afraid 
that, if I ever submitted my conscience to a search- 
ing analysis, I should be put to severe straits to 
make out to myself that I could lay claim to a 
woman’s greatest glory. I should know that, even 
if I preserved the letter, I must have gone very 
far astray in the spirit, because I must have given 
the men, who provided me with money or money’s 
worth, very good reason to complain that I had 
accepted their offerings under false pretences. We 
know that men don’t give presents to pretty women 
from purely disinterested motives.” 

“ Ah,” I said, a little disappointed, for Mrs. Ver- 
non had so charmed me that I was anxious to be- 
lieve the very best of her, “ then you don’t believe 
in her ! ” 

“ I do not judge her,” answered Athene, “ and 
no one can be further from thinking harshly of her. 
What can be more natural than that she should like 
to enjoy the pleasures which are heaped upon her ? 
Her husband appears satisfied ; the world applauds 
her — why should she feel shame or scruple ? Only 
the other day I went to see her, and, whilst I was 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


35 


there, that paragon of all the virtues, Lady Snow- 
den, came in. You know she would die if the hem 
of her garment touched that of an acknowledgedly 
fallen sister. She kissed Mrs. Vernon with effu- 
sion, and implored her to hold a stall at her bazaar, 
and toadied her as I have seldom seen one woman 
toady another. And this virtuous being was the 
ruin of a wretched woman in her own county, who 
had the misfortune to be married to a brute, and 
sought solace in the companionship of a man who 
was devoted to her. She did not flaunt it before 
people, poor soul ! she was only too anxious to 
keep her secret, but Lady Snowden ferreted it out, 
and literally hounded her to her ruin by making it 
a question of giving him up or running away with 
him.” 

“ And she did the latter ? ” 

“ Yes, and no doubt repents it in sackcloth and 
ashes now. Oh, my dear Anthony, the rottenness 
of society ! Nothing so true of it as the proverb 
that it lets some people steal a stableful of horses, 
and won’t let others approach the wall. Could not 
you and I count five, ten, fifteen, and more women 
this moment who have lovers openly in the sight of 
all men ; and society bids them to its feasts and takes 
care to put the men with whom their names are 
coupled next to them? Given three conditions, 
and I believe a woman might be as bad as all the 
wicked Roman Empresses rolled into one, and 
she would be received and welcomed wherever 
the fashionable world was gathered together.” 


36 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


“ And the three conditions ? ” I inquired. 

“ High position, a good cook, and, most import 
tant of all, a mari complaisant. I have given up 
being dogmatic on the subject of right and wrong, 
but at all events my code of morals is very different 
from that accepted by the society of the period.” 

It was at this juncture that I told Athene of the 
interest Mrs. Vernon had evinced in Vivian Lloyd. 

“ Ah ! ” she said, in a tone that spoke volumes. 

“ Yes,” I observed resignedly, “ I know what you 
are thinking. But I intentionally allowed you to 
imagine that I fancied myself the object of Mrs. 
Vernon’s interest. Confess, Athene, you thought I 
was laying the flattering unction to my soul that my 
presence, my conversaj^ion were pleasing to her ? ” 

“ And why not ? ” asked Athene, putting out a 
kind hand to me. “ Do you think I should have 
been surprised or,” smiling, “ jealous ? ” 

“ Jealous ! ” I echoed. “ There is but one 
Athene.” 

‘‘ And Anthony is her flatterer,” she replied. 
“ But go on, I am interested. Tell me more.” 

So, to the best of my ability, I repeated the whole 
conversation to her. Then in her turn I made her 
supply that part of Mrs. Vernon’s biography which 
was unknown to me — the two years when I was 
travelling in search of health. 

She had become acquainted with Magdalen 
Brook through Vivian. 

“ I lieard,” said Athene, “ that there had been 
love passages between them, but I did not know 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY, 


37 


that they had come to an engagement. It was about 
a year after Colonel Lloyd’s death that Magdalen 
Brook married Captain Vernon. I certainly thought 
it was a love-match — he was not rich, and his posi- 
tion was only that of the average soldier. He re- 
mained in the regiment a couple of years, during 
which I lost sight of them — indeed, I never spoke 
to her again until I met her last year, a full-fledged 
beauty, at a very smart party. She came up to me 
and behaved very prettily, and we have been on 
friendly terms ever since. There are two great 
points in her favour — she is nice to everyone, and 
never says anything ill-natured of another woman.” 

“ Two great points,” I acquiesced, “ and exceed- 
ingly rare ones in the present day.” 

“ But about Vivian,” she resumed. “ I do not 
think you will be showing him any particular 
friendliness by bringing them together again.” 

“ You see I have promised,” I replied, doubtfully ; 
and then, more to encourage myself than to con- 
vince her, I added, “ I tliink Vivian is able to take 
care of himself.” 

“ When was a man ever strong enough to take 
care of himself against the wiles of a beautiful 
woman — especially one whom he has loved and 
never unloved ? ” 

“ What do you mean by unloved ? ” 

“ A man only unloves,” she answered, “ when he 
grows weary of a woman. He has not done that if, 
when lie was last in her society, he adored her, and 
no fault of hers separated them.” 


38 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


“ I know Vivian lias a contempt for professional 
beauties,” I argued. 

“ Unfortunately,” answered Athene, “ fate so 
often amuses herself by making our love fly in the 
face of our pet prejudices. A man is more often 
than not taken captive by a woman who does not 
possess the attributes to which he attaches the 
highest value.” 

“ He will most likely refuse to go near her,” I 
said, for I had an uneasy idea that Athene was right, 
and that I ought not to try to bring them together. 

We said a good deal more to the same purpose ; 
then, as I rose to take my leave, Athene said, 

“ By-the-way, Anthony, what about the book ? ” 

I shook my head. 

“It is no use,” I declared. “I cudgelled my 
brains for flve hours on end the other night, and 
not a single idea came to me.” 

“ Go on trying,” she said. “ And the next time, 
have your foolscap in front of you and a pen in your 
hand. Once you make a start it will go of itself.” 

“ Never ! ” I replied, with energy. 

As I walked home I mused with growing dissat- 
isfaction upon my promise to Mrs. Vernon. It 
would be far better to keep Vivian away from her. 
She was lovely and fascinating — Vivian was not 
hewn out of marble — she could not possibly do him 
good in any sort of way, and she might make him 
desperately unhappy. Now that he had come out 
of his troubles like the hero he was by sheer pluck, 
self-restraint, and nobility of soul — now that he 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


39 


was happy and on the high road to fortune, why 
help to put a sttimbling-block in liis way just to 
satisfy the caprice of a vain woman ? He had no 
money to give her ; he was not of her world now ; 
he had voluntarily kept away from it — he could not 
give her honourable love, and to talk of friendship 
between a handsome and ardent-natured young man 
and a lovely woman who could not help practising 
her wiles on the men who came within her orbit, 
that was absurd, preposterous. I. half-resolved to 
break my promise, and never to go near Mrs. Ver- 
non again. But circumstances arrange themselves, 
and we are not free agents, however much we may 
try to believe that we are. 

The following evening I dined with Mrs. Wood, 
and Vivian was one of the party. We were six in 
all — our hostess, her two daughters, Jim Keith, 
Vivian, and myself. My acquaintance with the 
family was but slight, and I had never seen the 
younger daughter, Estelle — or Stella, as they 
called her — until this evening. She was a lovely 
girl of not quite eighteen, and I almost wondered 
that Jim had not fallen in love with her rather 
than her sister, who, though decidedly pretty, had 
not to my mind a tithe of the other’s charm. Jim, 
however, seemed perfectly satisfied with his choice, 
and was quite a typical lover, having neither eyes 
nor ears for anyone but his betrothed. It fell to 
my lot to take the mother to dinner, and I felt no 
inclination to complain of the arrangement, as she 
was a pretty woman, with plenty to say, who said 


40 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLBLY. 


it extremely well. Vivian and Stella sat opposite 
me, and I found my. eyes turning frequently in 
their direction, pleased to dwell on so charming 
a picture. I always thought Vivian one of the 
best-looking men I had ever seen — tall, broad- 
shouldered, with a remarliably good figure and 
bearing ; his fine hazel eyes had a most kindly and 
winning expression, and in spite of his moustache 
you could see the curves of a beautifully-shaped 
mouth. His dark-brown hair would have curled 
had not the present mania for close -shorn locks 
defied the possibility, and he had the frank and 
fearless air typical of the best kind of Englishman. 
My eyes rested alternately on him and the girl 
beside him with equal pleasure. Her eyes were 
positively glorious — of the shade that used to be 
called violet in the novels of twenty years ago’; 
she wore no fringe, but her hair of the real bur- 
nished gold, quite unlike the tint produced by the 
auricomus dyes of the day, waved on her low brow 
like Clytie’s ; her delicate nose was nearly Greek 
but for a slight impulse heavenwards, which gave 
it a very piquant charm, and her mouth, though 
not of the rosebud t3rpe, was beautiful in curves and 
colour — altogether she seemed to me lovely, and 
the pretty modesty of her manner, not wanting in 
vivacity, completed the charm. 

I promptly betrothed, married, and bestowed my 
blessing on this handsome pair. It seemed to me 
the most desirable arrangement possible, and I gave 
due weight to the consideration that Stella, as well 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


41 


as her sister, would come into a thousand a year on 
attaining the age of twenty-one or marrying, their 
father being dead. 

Vivian seemed well disposed towards her, though 
perhaps rather in a brotherly and protecting way, 
but her sparkling eyes, and the extreme interest 
with which she listened to his every word, drew me 
to the conclusion that her virgin fancy was fast 
being taken captive. And, indeed, I found this in 
no way surprising. I could not imagine a man 
more calculated to inspire love in women’s hearts 
than Vivian. 

After dinner, we three men sat for some time 
talking over old Eton and Oxford days (my career 
at college had been cut short by ill-health), and 
then, Jim beginning to betray signs of restless- 
ness, we took pity on him and adjourned to the 
di-awing-room. Vivian went over to Mrs. Wood, 
and I seated myself by Stella ; but, though her 
manner was prettily gracious to me, I could not 
help seeing that her eyes wandered furtively at 
every instant to Vivian, and that she was straining 
her ears to catch what he was saying. I was not 
in the least hurt, but felt most benevolently in- 
clined to my charming companion, and it occurred 
to me that I might give her pleasure by talking of 
him. 

I found this an excellent way of securing her 
attention, and she soon forgot to look at him, so 
intent was she on listening to my eulogiums. She 
did not know him very well, I elicited — indeed, 


42 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

this was only the second time he had been to her 
mother’s house. Jim had often spoken of him — 
how sad it was his losing all his money ! When I 
told her how well he had behaved — ^how, instead of 
going into the Guards as he had always expected, 
he was obliged to be a clerk in a bank, and had to 
live on a very small salary, and partly keep his 
mother besides, her beautiful eyes glistened with 
tears. I waxed warm in my praises — no effort to 
me, fond as I was of him — and told her how cheer- 
fully and manfully he had borne the great change 
in his life, not railing at Fate or crying out at the 
hardship of his lot, and a lovely flush came to her 
cheek, her lips were half parted, and she was doing 
what every tender woman loves to do, making a 
hero of the man she admired. 

She would have listened as long as I cared to 
talk on this entrancing theme, but her mother 
created a diversion by asking her to play, and she 
rose without demur and went to the piano, which 
I opened for her. Her playing was much above 
the average, and showed great taste and feeling. 
Then her mother bade her fetch her violin, and 
accompanied her in some weird, pathetic, Hunga- 
rian airs. Glancing at Vivian, I saw that his eyes 
were riveted on her. Nothing could have been 
more graceful than her pose ; her slight, tall figure 
was set off by her white gown, and there was a 
rapt expression in her eyes as she played. 

“ Ah, brava ! ” uttered Vivian, with enthusiasm, 
as she laid aside her bow, “ I never heard anytliing 
more charming I ” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 43 

She blushed, and her eyes sparkled with pleas- 
ure at his praise. I added my very sincere tribute, 
and then proposed that Vivian should sing. He 
would not hear of it at first, but presently yielded 
to the combined entreaties of mother and daugh- 
ter, and, sitting down to the piano, sang in his 
pleasant baritone the Eton boating song, and one 
or two more that brought back the dear old time 
to my mind. I remember how we used to congre- 
gate in his room where he had a piano, and thun- 
der forth choruses to the songs of the period, of 
which he had a large selection. He had never 
been taught, but had a capital ear, and could pick 
out any tune, and make his own accompaniment. 
I have heard that twenty or thirty years ago a 
man who played the piano was thought a very 
poor creature. All I can say is, that a boy who 
can sing or play at a public school or college is a 
boon to his companions, and sure to be popular. I 
remember the shouts of an evening of “ Come on, 
old chap, tune up ! ” and the hearty enjoyment 
with which we listened and joined in ; not always 
contenting ourselves with participating in the 
chorus, but going through the whole song from 
start to finish. 

Vivian walked home with me to my rooms and 
stayed for a chat and a cigar. I was full of praises 
of the Wood family; of Estelle in particular, and 
Vivian echoed my praises with great cordiality 
and agreed with me that Jim was a lucky 
chap. 


44 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


“ For my part,” I said, “ I cannot imagine why 
he did not choose the younger one.” 

“ She is a mere child,” replied Vivian, “ much 
too young to think of marrying. Why, she is 
barely eighteen — too young to know her own mind.” 

“ It seems to me,” I remarked, after a long and 
thoughtful puff at my cigar, “ that it is a doubtful 
advantage for a girl to flirt with half a dozen men 
in succession. If her young imagination was taken 
by a good fellow, it would be far better for her and 
for him too that he should be her first and last and 
only love.” 

“ That is a very big ‘ if,’ ” returned Vivian. “ A 
young girl’s fancy is so often caught by men who 
are not really good fellows, but have certain showy 
qualities that allow a simple, guileless child to make 
a hero of him. I should think Miss Estelle is highly 
imaginative.” 

I gathered from his tone and manner that he had 
no idea of playing the hero to her himself, so I 
stopped short in the suggestion I had been about 
to make concerning their suitability for each other. 
Being foiled in the plan that I had cherished for 
the last few hours I turned to the subject of Mrs. 
Vernon, seeing that Vivian was in such a heart- 
whole frame of mind that the danger I had feared 
seemed at that moment very small indeed. But as 
I spoke I watched him narrowly. 

“ I have a message for you from a lovely lady,” 
I began. 

“ For me ! ” he repeated, arching his brows. 


OF THE WOULD, WOULDLY, 46 

“ What have I to do with lovely ladies. Unless 
you are speaking of Athene.” 

“ No,” I replied, “ I am speaking of Mrs. 
Vernon.” 

“ Oh ! ” he said, but without apparent emotion 
of any kind. ‘‘ And what is her message ? ” 

“ She wants you to go and see her,” I answered. 
“ Indeed she won’t take a denial.” 

He laughed lightly. 

“ Tell her that I am honoured and flattered, but 
that I am a business man and have no time to make 
calls.” 

“ She will not accept that as an excuse. She 
made me promise to persuade you to go and see 
her.” 

He shook his head. 

“ No,” he said resolutely. “ I can be of no use 
to her — we live in different worlds — a banker’s 
clerk can reflect no credit on a woman of fashion. 
She has her herds and flocks, and I wish to be the 
ewe lamb,” laughing, “ and to be spared.” 

“ That is just it,” I said. “ Your parable is most 
appropriate. She counts all the herds and flocks 
as of no value, and insists on the lamb.” 

‘‘ Fortunately,” returned Vivian gaily, ‘‘ this lamb 
has a voice in the matter and will not be devoured 
or led about with a blue riband round his neck.” 

Now, as the reader is aware, I had resolved not 
to play into Mrs. Vernon’s hands in this matter, 
but contrary to my intention and better judgment 
I presently found myself using all sorts of argu- 


46 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


ments to combat Vivian’s most sensible decision. 
I related the incident of my meeting with her at 
Thornhill’s, of my visit to her house, and found 
myself waxing eloquent about her dissatisfaction 
with her life and her need of a friend. 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY, 


47 


CHAPTER IV. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

Vivian listened apparently unmoved, and why, I 
know not, but a certain sense of irritation at his 
indifferent attitude crept over me. I wanted to 
stir him into some show of feeling. 

“ I never knew that you had been engaged to 
her,” I said, eyeing him narrowly. 

“ No,” he replied quietly. “ Those things are 
better not talked of when they come to nothing. 
It is no advantage to a girl to have it known that 
she was engaged to another man before she mar- 
ried. And ” — ^here for the first time he showed 
some feeling — “ it was such a sore subject that I 
never cared to speak of it to anyone.” 

“ Of course,” I rejoined, “ I knew that you 
were in love with her that summer on the river.” 

Vivian took his cigar from his mouth, and stared 
hard at the fire. I kept silence, waiting for him 
to speak. 

“ Yes,” he said, very gravely, after a long pause, 
“ I was in love with her. She was the pivot on 
which my every thought and hope for the future 
turned. I placed her, like a goddess, on the high- 
est altar of my heai-t — she was my ideal of all 


48 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

womanly perfection, of mind as well as body — I 
idealised her as I suppose every romantic lad 
idealises some woman — light-hearted and thought- 
less as I was, I had always one burning desire to 
be worthy of her. Do you remember, Tony, that 
I used to get chaffed sometimes for being so 
moral ? — it was my adoration of her that prevented 
me from going wrong — indeed, with her image in 
my heart, I had no inclination. At all events,” 
in a lighter tone, “ I owe her something for that.” 

“ Yes,” I assented. 

He resumed his scrutiny of the glowing logs. 

“ I thought,” he said, after another long pause, 
“ that the wound was cicatrised, and that I had 
forgotten. But now, at this moment, I can re- 
member the agony of losing her. All the rest 
was nothing — the loss of money, prospects, friends 
did not touch me by comparison with that one 
awful anguish, ‘^ou know, Tony, when my poor 
father died, and all the miserable story of our ruin 
and his extravagance, poor old boy ! came out, I 
wrote to her at once giving her up. Of course, 
there was nothing else for it, but, do you know, 
fatuous young fool that I was, I did not believe 
that she would acquiesce. I felt certain that she 
would write back and say that she would stick to 
me whatever happened, and wait for me however 
long, and that hope kept me going during those 
dreadful first days of trouble at the Court ; but 
when I got her letter saying she was broken- 
hearted, and could never cease to love me, but let- 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLT. 


49 


ting me see that under the circumstances she had 
no alternative but to abide by my decision, I 
felt ” 

He paused. 

“ No ! ” he went on presently, “ there are ag- 
onies which no words can express. People talk 
glibly of broken hearts, but the shattering of the 
hope that has been the mainspring of one’s life is 
not to be measured by terms. She wrote me two 
or three pretty letters full of nice little common- 
places. She offered to be my friend — begged me 
to go and see her, and then, when I ceased to write, 
her letters became more urgent, and she threw out 
hints that perhaps all was not over between us. 
But, thank God, I remained firm, and, do you 
know, that until the other night when I met her 
coming out from the play, I had never so much 
as set eyes on her since the day when I left her 
believing she was to be my wife.” ‘ 

“ Perhaps it is all for the best,” I said, taking 
refuge in that feeble form of consolation. “I 
don’t think it would have suited you to be the 
husband of a fashionable beauty.” 

“ I ! ” he said, with lofty scorn. “ My dear old 
Tony, I hope you have not quite such a low esti- 
mate of me as that ! ” 

“ How could you help it if you have a beautiful 
wife ? ” 

“ I should be very much surprised if I could not 
help it,” he returned. “ Is not a man like Vernon 
who trades on and makes capital out of his wife’s 
4 


50 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 


shame (there is no occasion to wrap anything up 
in euphemism between you and me) — ^is he not 
the dernier des dernier s f Nowadays, when David 
covets Uriah’s wiffe, he does not put him in the 
forefront of the battle, but asks him to dine, to 
shoot, to fish, to yacht, to the opera, the play ; gets 
invitations for him to houses where he would not 
otherwise have the smallest chance of setting foot. 
Do you suppose he is such a fool as not to see the 
object of these attentions ? does he not know in 
his secret heart that he is a scorn and a by-word 
amongst the very men who show him these civil- 
ities, and more than all despised by his wife her- 
self ? Though he puts on a good-humoured air of 
acquiescent blindness, do you suppose he can be 
so lost to all sense of decency that he does not 
have very bad quarters of an hour with himself 
now and then ? ” 

“I suppose,” I observed smiling, “that Uriah 
was put in the forefront of the battle because he 
would not accept whatever might have been the 
equivalent of dining and shooting and play-going 
in those days.” 

“ Very likely,” returned Vivian grimly. “ Any- 
how, he is the only one concerned in that affair 
who comes well out of it. He has been handed 
down to posterity as a gentleman and an honour- 
able man.” 

“But how,” I asked, “can you prevent your 
wife from being admired if she is a beautiful, vain, 
ambitious woman?” 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


51 


“ But, Tony,” lie replied earnestly, “ I cannot 
in the least realise the position of a woman wlio 
married a man for love wanting the achiiiration, 
or, to use the proper word, the desire of other men. 
If she loved him; if he was a good fellow ; above 
all, if they have children, I cannot imagine a 
woman worth the name allowing men to approach 
her with dishonourable intentions; far less en- 
couraging them.” 

“ I do not suppose,” I said, rather feebly, “ that 
Mrs. Vernon is half so bad as people try to make 
out.” 

“ If the badness exists,” he replied hotly, “ the 
question of degree does not matter an iota. If she 
takes gifts with the full knowledge of why they 
are offered and returns no equivalent, I should 
think rather worse than better of her. It is a 
horrible thing,” he said, with an abrupt gesture, 
“ to have to speak and think so of a woman who 
was once the incarnation of all that was pure and 
good in one’s thoughts. Bah ! let us talk of .some- 
thing else,” and he pushed back his chair, and 
took a turn up and down the room as was his 
wont when his feelings got the better of him. 

“ Then,” I said, not without diffidence, “ must I 
tell her that you won’t go and see her ? ” 

“ Yes, put it as civilly as you like, but make the 
fact quite clear.” 

Still I lingered on the forbidden threshold. 

“ You know,” I said, “ in spite of her apparent 
success, she is anything but a happy woman. She 


52 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

wants a friend badly, and she wants you to be her 
friend.” 

“ That I will never be,” he replied, with em- 
phasis, “ as long as she leads her present life. The 
very first condition of my friendship would be her 
giving up the men who surround her. Bah ! Tony, 
do you think she would sacrifice even her smallest 
gratification for me or for anyone else ? Of course 
she suffers from reaction every now and then, and 
talks, I have no doubt, quite pathetically about the 
hollowness of life and the unsatisfactory nature of 
the world’s pleasures, but it is the breath of her 
nostrils, and she would no more give it up, unless 
it gave her up, than she would — ^liow can I put it 
strongly enough ? — disfigure her beauty with vit- 
riol. — Look at the clock, old boy; do you see what 
time it is ? and I am coming to dine with you to- 
morrow — or rather to-night. I’m off.” ' 

We shook hands heartily, and parted. On the 
whole, I reflected, it was just as well that he should 
keep out of harm’s way, and, as for myself, I would 
avoid a personal explanation with Mrs. Vernon, and 
would consult Athene as to the best way of doing 
this. 

The next morning was fine and frosty. I went 
for a brisk constitutional down the Row towards 
Kensington Gardens. Half way to the Albert 
Gate I met the person whom, of all -others, I least 
wished to encounter — Mrs. Vernon. She was ac- 
companied by a handsome little boy of about five 
years old. I accelerated my pace, intending to 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


53 


walk swiftly by with a bow, but she stopped, held 
out her hand, and, with the sweetest of smiles, 
asked where I was off to in such hot haste. 

I replied that it was cold, and that I wanted to 
warm myself by brisk movement. 

“ So do I,” she declared. “ If you will assure 
me that you are not hurrying to keep an appoint- 
ment with a lady, we will turn and go with you. 
This is my son and heir. Archie, shake hands with 
Mr. Courtland.” 

“ Well,” I thought desperately, “ I may as well 
get it over,” and 1 walked by her side, feeling any- 
thing but happy in spite of my apparently enviable 
situation. 

I was perfectly aware why she insisted on my 
company, and indeed we had not gone fifty yards 
before she turned to the subject which I was an- 
ticipating with such extreme disrelish. 

“ It is to-night Mr. Lloyd dines with you, is it 
not ? ” she said, turning to look at me. 

“ Yes,” I replied; and, in a moment of weakness, 
I saw a loophole of escape, but the hope was 
blighted as soon as formed. 

“ You have not seen him since we met, I sup- 
pose ? ” she remarked. 

I applied the match, and set fire to my boats. 

“ He was dining at the Woods’s last night, and 
walked home with me afterwards.” 

A lovely colour came into her cheeks. 

“ Oh ! ” she murmured. “ And you gave liiin 
my message ? What did he say ? ” 


54 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


I hesitated. 

“ Did he refuse to come ? ” she said, in a tone 
which had a decidedly sharper accent. 

I was casting about me for the civility with 
wliich Vivian had begged me to clothe the un- 
pleasant truth, but she insisted upon having it in 
all its bare ugliness. 

“ Do not make excuses,” she cried, in a voice of 
mingled anger and disappointment. “No amount 
of wrapping-up will make the fact more palatable ; 
he refuses — refuses point-blank to come.” 

I behaved without a grain of tact, but then I was 
taken unawares. 

“ I think he is wise,” I said, “ and it would really 
be much kinder of you not to insist.” 

“ But I do insist,” she cried. “ I will not be 
treated with rudeness and contempt — I have not 
been used to it. Tell him,” with agitation, “ tell 
him what I say — tell liim to-night. How can it 
hurt him just to come and see me ? ” 

“ Oh,” I exclaimed, shocked at the way in which 
she put it, all the more perhaps remembering how 
he had spoken of her. “Pray do not say such 
things. Vivian would be utterly horrified, if he 
thought you could entertain such ideas for a 
moment.” 

“ Tell him,” she replied vehemently, “ that is 
what I do think — what I shall have no choice but 
to think if he persists in his refusal. Will you tell 
him?” 

What could I do but reply in the affirmative, 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


55 


reluctant though I was to make the promise. There 
were not many people in the Row — there never are 
in winter except on Sundays — but such stray pedes- 
trians as we met stared with more interest than 
good manners at the beautiful and obviously agi- 
tated woman who was my comipanion. I had there- 
fore a distinct object in wishing to pacify her, apart 
from the desire to humour her whim. So I hastened 
to promise what she wished, and had then to submit 
to a very rigid cross-examination as to what he had 
said about her. I could see by the growing dis- 
satisfaction in her fair face that my narration was not 
pleasing to her, although I used all my ingenuity 
to conceal the real sentiments which Vivian had 
expressed with regard to her. The walk was not 
fraught with that enjoyment which a casual observer 
might have imagined, and I was anything but sorry 
when it came to an end and I had wished her good- 
bye at her own door, having declined her invitation 
to lunch. 

It was with extreme diffidence that I broached 
my theme to Vivian after dinner in the evening. 
I expected him to persist obstinately in his refusal, 
and had prepared quite a pathetic little account of 
the morning’s meeting wherewith to soften his ex- 
pected obduracy. As, however, nothing is certain 
but the unexpected, I had scarcely commenced my 
parallels when he interrupted me with a laugh. 

“ My dear old Tony, don’t make yourself unhappy. 
I see it will be far less trouble to call and have done 
with it than to keep excusing myself. When the 


56 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


lady has had her own way and has seen me, she 
will have no difficulty in relegating me to oblivion. 
I will call to-morrow.” 

I gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction. 

“ My dear Vivian,” I exclaimed, “ you have 
taken a load from my heart. If you knew how 
trying it is to have a lovely creature pleading, en- 
treating, insisting you would feel for me. But I 
see by your consenting that you do, so now all is 
well, and we can talk about something else.” 

And then and there I dismissed Mrs. Vernon 
from my mind and with her all anxiety about 
Vivian. 

In due course I shall have to chronicle the meet- 
ing of the quondam lovers and many other matters 
wliich the reader will see at once could not have 
come under my personal observation. I shall be 
compelled therefore to go occasionally from the 
first person to the third and to describe events after 
the fashion of the ordinary story-teller. How I 
came by the knowledge must remain my secret, and 
I must be credited with the novelist’s gift of being 
able to look into hearts, to gauge motives and feel- 
ings, and to have those apparently superhuman 
powers which are the special prerogative of the 
romance writer. For a time, then, I disappear 
from these pages and put the facts variously col- 
lated into as simple and succinct a form as I can 
accomplish. 


OF THE WOBLH, WOBLHLT. 


57 


CHAPTER V. 

GLEANED FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Magdalen Vernon was awaiting with nervous 
impatience the advent of the man whom she so 
ardently desired to see. She could not account 
even to herself for the vehement longing — for 
years she had almost forgotten his existence. 
Why the momentary meeting with him at the 
theatre should have made such a strong impression 
upon her — why it should have awakened in her 
such a desire to see him and to recall the past — she 
did not stop to ask. Of late it had been so much 
a matter of course with her to have her whims and 
caprices fulfilled that she looked upon it as a right, 
and was thrown into a fever of impatience by being 
thwarted. Her triumphs had brought satiety in 
their train, and there was deep down in her heart a 
lurking consciousness that there was nothing very 
noble or honourable about them. She despised the 
men who professed such boundless devotion to 
her, and no doubt gauged the value of their pro- 
fessions. The sight of Vivian had brought the past 
vividly back to her, but reminded her of the days 
when her pleasures and aspirations were simple, 


58 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


pure, healthy, and the remembrance of Vivian stood 
out in sharp contrast from the men who surrounded 
her to-day. 

When she declared with so much passion that 
she wanted a friend, she was not very clear in her 
own mind as to the relation in which she desired 
that Vivian should stand towards her — she only 
knew that she was unhappy and dissatisfied, and 
that she longed for some influence which should 
put her on better terms with herself. She knew 
instinctively that Vivian disapproved of her life — 
she was keenly anxious to place herself before him 
in a better light. She wanted to tell him that she 
had discovered the hollowness and vanity of these 
vaunted pleasures — she meant even to ask his 
advice how to loose herself from the golden shackles 
which were growing irksome. Whether she had 
any intention of acting upon his advice, should he 
offer it, she did not pause to ask herself — she waited 
with feverish impatience to see him, and after that 
— ^well, there would be time enough to decide 
then. 

It was only a few hours since she had received 
Anthony Courtland’s note saying that Vivian pro- 
posed to take his chance of finding her at five that 
afternoon, and she had promptly put off another 
engagement and was waiting for him with the keen- 
est impatience. Half an hour before, a splendid 
trophy of flowers had arrived from an admirer and 
she had banished it to the dining-room. She had hid- 
den some more costly flowers behind a large screen. 


OF THE WOBLB, WORLDLY. 


59 


and had only a few simple blossoms on the table 
beside her. She had locked up various photographs 
which generally occupied a conspicuous position in 
the room, and had satisfied herself by a careful survey 
that there was nothing visible calculated to make an 
unfavourable impression upon him. She had also 
given particular instructions to the servant only to 
admit a tall, rather dark gentleman whom she ex- 
pected at five ; and now, having completed all her 
arrangements, she was waiting with a sense of 
mingled expectancy and nervousness. Her dress 
was of the simplest — her diamond bangles and most 
of her rings were discarded — she had paid the most 
careful attention to her dress and appearance, but 
everything was quiet and unostentatious, and she had 
a satisfied consciousness that she had never looked 
lovelier. The clock had just struck the hour when 
her quick ear caught the sound of the bell — she 
heard the butler’s step crossing the hall, followed a 
moment later by a heavier tread. A thrill of joy 
shot through her heart — an involuntary smile il- 
lumined her face. The revulsion of feeling was too 
horrible when the door was thrown open, and the 
servant, in an embarrassed voice, announced, 

“ Lord Helvellyn.” 

She grew pale to the lips, and could scarcely give 
him the conventional greeting. Her visitor appar- 
ently observed nothing — he was radiant. 

“ This is luck,” he cried, pressing her hand with 
ardour, “ to find you at home and alone. Did you 
expect me ? 


60 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 

“ No,” she returned coldly, “ I did not.” 

“ You said last night, you know, that I might 
call. You haven’t forgotten, have you? Did you 
not get my flowers?” looking round the room. 
“ I particularly told the fellow to send them by 
four.” 

“ Thanks very much,” answered Magdalen, as 
coldly as before — “ some flowers did come about 
an hour ago, but the smell of the tuberoses gives 
me a headache, and I had them removed to an- 
other room.” 

“By Jove, I’m awfully sorry,” exclaimed the 
young man. “ Chuck them out of the window, 
and I’ll order another lot that don’t smell when I 
go out.” 

“ No, pray do not,” she said. “ I like them, as 
a rule. It is only that I am not feeling very 
well.” 

She half-hoped that he would take the hint and 
go, but he had apparently no such intention. 
Truth to tell, he was so utterly unaccustomed to 
rebuffs from the fair, being heir to a dukedom and 
extremely rich, that it would have been almost an 
impossibility to convey to his mind the idea that 
his presence was unwelcome. 

“ I’m so awfully sorry,” he said, and, by way of 
testifying his sympathy, he rose from his chair and 
seated himself on the couch close to Magdalen. 

And at that moment Fate, with its delightful 
sense of humour, brought Vivian upon the scene. 
He had very speaking eyes. Magdalen’s percep- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


61 


tions were sharpened by vexation — she saw at 
once the impression produced on her new guest by 
the situation in which he found her. She rose 
with an embarrassed gesture, gave him her hand, 
and introduced him to Lord Helvellyn. Vivian 
greeted the other man stiffly, and in return received 
an acknowledgment of his existence which con- 
veyed distinctly, “ What the deuce do you mean 
by coming here when you are not wanted ? ” 

Magdalen busied herself with the tea-service — 
Lord Helvellyn ostentatiously assisting her, whilst 
Vivian stood very stiff and erect. He was not in 
the least propitiated by his hostess saying in the 
sweetest voice to him that it was so good of him 
to come ; that she had wanted so much to see him ; 
that she had been so glad to get Mr. Courtland’s 
letter saying that he would call. 

She did her best to relieve the situation of its 
awkwardness — she told Lord Helvellyn in her 
pretty way what old friends she and Vivian were, and 
how they had not met for years, but his lordship 
evidently took the slenderest interest in this an- 
nouncement. He did his best to monopolise her, 
and to leave Vivian out in the cold, and the latter 
sat drinking his tea, wondering how soon, in com- 
mon decency, he could get up and take his leave. 
Magdalen thought she had never spent such a 
miserable quarter of an hour — it was almost a re- 
lief when he rose. But she had no intention of 
letting him go like this, she felt that if he did he 
would never set foot in the house again. She did 


62 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


not ring the bell, and as the door of the room 
closed upon him with an abrupt, “ Oh ! I forgot,” 
she darted after him* without a word of apology to 
Lord Helvellpi. Vivian turned as he heard her 
step. 

“I want to speak to you,” she exclaimed, 
eagerly. ‘‘ Come in here for a moment,” and she 
pushed open the dining-room door. There stood 
the trophy she had wished to conceal from him on 
the sideboard in company with a bouquet which 
had arrived since ; but she recked nothing of 
these minor details in her anxiety to set herself 
right with him in the matter of Lord Helvell 3 m. 
She closed the door, and s1a:‘etched out both hands 
to him, wliilst her eyes were bright with something 
very like tears. 

“ Oh, Vivian,” she said, “ I am so vexed — it is 
some stupid mistake. I was longing for a chat 
with you, and told the servant not to admit anyone 
else. I do not know how it can have happened, 
except that you were both strangers to him. Lord 
Helvellyn had never called before.” 

She was almost too eager. Vivian could not 
help remembering the proverb, excuse,, 

s* accuse ” ; but her distress and vexation were evi- 
dent, and he could not but be mollified by them. 

“ Oh,” he replied, with a shade less stiffness of 
voice and manner, “ I did not for a moment expect 
to find you alone — indeed, I was prepared to see 
you surrounded by your court.” 

She made a gesture of entreaty. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


63 


“ Do not speak so,” she said. “ I am not the 
vain, frivolous creature you imagine me — I want, 
oh, I do so want to talk about old times. When 
will you come again ? — fix a time now, then I shall 
feel that you are not angry.” 

“ Angry ! ” he repeated. “ Why should I be 
angry ? that would indeed be unreasonable.” 

“ No, it would not,” she cried quickly. “ I 
made such a point of your coming, and then to 
think you should find that brainless idiot here, 
and that he should sit you out. When will you 
come ? ” 

“ I so seldom have an afternoon free,” he re- 
plied. 

“ Then come and dine. Come on Monday. 
There will be no one but ourselves.” 

She did not say no one but myself because she 
feared he would not come to a tete-d-tete dinner, 
but preferred to let him believe that her husband 
would be of the party, though, as a matter of fact, 
he was going into the country. 

Vivian hesitated. 

He had no engagement, and a lie would not 
come glibly to his tongue. But he did not wish 
to accept her invitation. 

“ Won’t you, Vivian, for the sake of old times ? ” 
she pleaded, and her eyes wore an expression fit 
to melt a heart of adamant. 

Here the tramp of impatient feet upstairs re- 
minded them of the guest in the diwing-room, 
and Vivian was acutely conscious that to prolong 


64 


OF THE WOBLH, WOBLBLY, 


the situation was to cause increased embarrassment 
to the lady. 

He put his hand on the door. 

“ Oh, if you are good enough to wish it,” he 
said reluctantly, “ I shall be very happy.” 

“ Do you promise ? ” she asked eagerly. ‘‘ You 
will not think better of it and send an excuse ? ” 

I promise,” he answered smiling, and it was 
the first time there had been any approach to cor- 
diality in his tone. 

“ Good-bye then. Monday at eight.” 

“ Monday at eight,” he repeated, and she opened 
the hall door for him in spite of his objections. 
She was smiling as she closed it after him ; but, as 
she turned and met the servant in the passage, her 
face changed. 

“ Did I not tell you,” she said, “ that I was not at 
home to anyone but Mr. Lloyd ? ” 

“ I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he replied, “ but I 
thought it was Mr. Lloyd until his lordship gave 
me his name at the drawing-room door, and I did 
not know what to do then.” 

“ Oh,” she said shortly. “ Bring up those 
flojvers ; ” and she ran up the stairs and entered 
the room with a smiling face and her most charm- 
ing manner. 

She had got what she wanted now — indeed, a 
good deal more than she had expected, for she was 
to have Vivian’s company for a whole evening now, 
instead of the short hour she had anticipated. 
After all, this disagreeable incident had closed ex- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


65 


tremely well, and she made her apologies to her 
aggrieved guest with the prettiest grace in the 
world. Ten minutes ago she detested him, and 
would not have cared if he had taken mortal of- 
fence, but now she remembered that he was a very 
desirable acquaintance and one that it behoved her 
to cultivate. 

“ Please don’t think me the rudest woman in the 
world,” she said, “ but I was obliged to speak to 
Mr. L(loyd for a moment. He came by appoint- 
ment to talk to me about the affairs of a mutual 
friend, and I could not let him go away without a 
word on the subject.” 

Lord Helvellyn looked only half mollified. 

“ I am sorry I called so inopportunely,” he re- 
marked. “ If you had given me a hint, I would 
have gone.” 

“ But I did not want you to go,” she rejoined 
prettily, and the servant entering at that moment 
with his floral offering he regained his good humour. 

“ Please,” he exclaimed, “ don’t have that thing 
in here if it makes your head ache.” 

But she protested that her head was all right, 
and that it was so lovely she could not forego the 
pleasure of looking at it. He eyed the bouquet 
lying beside it somewhat jealously. 

“ After all, a bouquet is more useful,” he said. 
“ I suppose that is for the Embassy to-night.” 

“ I would take yours if I could,” she declared, 
“ but,” with a gay little laugh, “ I should want a 
black boy to carry it behind me.” 


G6 


OF TBE WOULD, WOULDLY. 


Then he asked if she would not dine and do a 
play with him on Monday, but she replied that her 
husband was going to the country for the night, 
and she meant to spend a quiet little evening at 
home with the children. Eventually, however, 
they found a date that would be mutually conven- 
ient for the dinner and play. He paid a very long 
visit, but she showed no signs of weariness, though 
she was longing to get rid of him. She had to re- 
mind herself more than once that he was Lord Hel- 
vellyn ; that his attentions to her would inspire 
jealousy in the breasts of other women — of one in 
particular, — ^but when the door closed upon him at 
half-past six, she flung herself back amongst her 
cushions with -a gesture of petulant uneasiness, 
saying in her heart, “ What a bore ! what a bore ! 
what a bore to have to put up with a fool like that, 
and have to seem to suffer him gladly.” And then 
she fell into a reverie. 

“ He is very little altered ” (he of course stood 
for Vivian this time) ; “ what a contrast ! If nature 
had the smallest eye to the fitness of things he 
would be the eldest son of a Duke, and Helvellyn 
the banker’s clerk. Then I might have married 
him and been happy ever after. No! no one is 
happy. I thought once that a tithe of what I have 
now would have sent me into a seventh heaven, 
and what do I care for it?' Are the people I mix 
with now a whit pleasanter or more amusing than 
the ones I used to know ? — quite the other way. 
J ust at first one is dazzled by high sounding names, 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 67 

big rooms, gold plate, smart servants, diamonds 
and flowers, and when one is used to that, the peo- 
ple themselves are as petty and snobbish, as spite- 
ful and selfish, as any others. More so, because 
they are not accustomed to being contradicted. 
And yet what would not almost any woman give 
to be where I am, — there are very few Cornelias 
going about. But should I have been happier with 
Vivian on three hundred a year? No, of course 
not. I loathe poverty and squalor, and struggling 
to make both ends meet. Love would have flown 
out of the window in six months, Vivian would 
have irritated me with his exalted ideas, and I 
should have disappointed him. It would never 
have done — my instinct was perfectly right about 
giving him up when he was ruined, — but oh, I 
wish—! ” 

Here the door opened, and someone entered who 
was entirely unconnected with the wish she had 
been on the eve of expressing. It was her husband. 
, “Not gone to dress ! ” he exclaimed, “ you will 
be very late. By Jove ! ” looking at the flowers, 
“ what a hay-stack I Who is the latest victim ? ” 

“ Lord Helvellyn sent the flowers,” she replied 
carelessly. “ He has just gone. By the way, he 
wants us to dine and go to the play on Friday.” 

“All right. Friday will suit me capitally. 
Make haste, little woman — it looks so bad keeping 
people waiting for dinner, and it is a good twenty 
minutes’ drive I ” 

Magdalen obeyed. She and her husband got on 


68 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

fairly well. They rarely quarrelled, but neither 
had the least knowledge of the thoughts or feelings 
of the other. They had arrived at the comfortable 
state of indifference when neither cared. 

Vivian left the house with mingled emotions. 
Magdalen’s instinct in following him from the 
drawing-room had been perfectly correct. Had 
she allowed him to go without a sign, he would 
have departed with all his worst impressions of 
her conlirmed, and he would assuredly never have 
set foot within her house again, let her entreat as 
she might. He had found her as he expected, in 
the society of a man whose attitude of aspirant to 
her favour was unmistakable, and who had treated 
him (though that was a matter of supreme indif- 
ference) with supercilious impertinence as an inter- 
loper. During his short stay, he was counting the 
minutes until he should be able to take his hat and 
go. He had no feeling of hurt vanity, nor, though 
he acknowledged with perfect impartiality that she 
was ten times lovelier than in the old days, did he 
realise that she had been to him the dearest object 
of his life. She was simply a beautiful, vain woman, 
moving in a world which was no longer his world, 
and leading a life which he contemned and despised. 
But after the few minutes alone with her in the 
dining-room, in spite of the flowers which his quick 
eye at once detected as Tributes from admirers, he 
could not retain all his displeasure and contempt. 
The evident sincerity of her vexation, of her wish 
to appear in a better light before him, appealed to 


OF THE WOBLI), WORLDLY, 


69 


the kindness of his heart, and in those gentle tones 
and entreating eyes there was something which 
brought hack keenly to his remembrance the days 
when they were boy and girl together. 

As he walked homewards, the softer feelings 
grew more dim and shadowy, and the impressions 
of the drawing-room stronger. He wished he had 
not accepted her invitation, he would infinitely 
prefer his first appearance in her house to be his 
last — he had a great repugnance to the thought of 
meeting Captain Vernon, not because he had won 
the prize that once seemed great beyond the power 
of words to express, but because he felt a scathing 
contempt for him, and realised how extremely un- 
pleasant it was to sit at the table, and eat the bread 
and salt of a man whom he despised. Vivian had 
the defauts de ses qualites. He had sacrificed so 
much to his own sense of honour and uprightness 
that, without for an instant having any Pharisaic 
pride in himself, he was apt to be harsh in his 
judgment of men who made their sense of honour 
subservient to their convenience. In his mind there 
were two watchwords emblazoned in fire — honour 
for men, virtue for women. 

There was not a particle of the prig about him ; 
lie had no ambition to set the world right, or teach 
his fellows their duty, but he chose his intimates 
amongst those whose ideas coincided in the main 
with liis own, and, as long aS they came fairly 
within the standard, asked no questions and pro- 
nounced no judgments. But, as he believed, Cap- 


70 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


tain Vernon and his wife were both wanting in 
the attributes to which he attached such high im- 
portance. 

Before arriving at his own door, his mind had 
reverted to a subject of much more importance to 
him than the Vernon menage — the promised part- 
nership in the bank, and he set to work building 
a very substantial castle for himself, a good deal 
nearer than Spain, and much more likely to give 
him a habitation. He sat down to dinner with a 
friend in the best possible spirits, and Magdalen, 
sitting rather distraite at the banquet in Palace 
Gardens, and wondering anxiously how and what 
he was thinking about her, would have been 
deeply mortified to know that her image had 
entirely departed from his mind. 

She looked forward almost feverishly to Mon- 
day, when he was to dine with her. Her extreme 
desire to be in his company may have been, and 
probably was, only a caprice, but a caprice in a 
spoiled and rather selfish woman makes itself as 
imperatively felt as a natural and legitimate long- 
ing in better-regulated minds. She was deter- 
mined there should be no contretemps at their 
next meeting ; nothing to spoil her planned effects 
— thank heaven ! after eight o’clock she was a free 
woman, and no one could force his company upon 
her. She had an intuition that Vivian would be 
better pleased not to find her alone, so she kept 
the children up after their usual bed-time, and had 
promised them, as a great treat, that they should be 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


71 


present during the first part of dinner. She really 
was an affectionate mother, and her children were 
devoted to her, and, in spite of what she had said 
in her monologue, she did not object to posing as 
Cornelia once now and then, and did it all the 
better because she had a good deal of real affection 
for her pretty jewels. 

When Vivian entered the drawing-room he 
found them clasping the neck of the fair Cornelia ; 
she sitting between them on the sofa, and receiv- 
ing their caresses with maternal indulgence. Viv- 
ian’s face lighted up at once — he loved children, 
and this pretty picture entirely banished the one 
that he had found so displeasing on his first 
visit. 

“ I am so sorry,” she said very sweetly, rising 
to greet him, “ but my husband has had to go into 
the country ; so, if you don’t mind, you must put 
up with me and the ‘ chicks.’ ” 

Vivian was secretly relieved. He said the right 
thing with an excellent grace, and the party were 
instantly on the best of terms. Miss Gladys, a 
lovely little girl of three, taking so kindly to the 
visitor that, at a later period, she wept bitterly 
when her nurse removed her from the dining-room. 
He and Magdalen fell to talking of old times so 
naturally that, when they were presently left tete-d- 
all sense of gene was gone. 

She had a great many things in her mind to say 
to Iiim when they could pursue the tenor of their 
1 uninterrupted by the consideration of mate- 


72 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


rial wants and the presence of a third person, and 
she was well aware that this gradual and friendly 
drawing together was an excellent prelude to 
the more intimate talk that was to follow. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


73 


CHAPTER VI. 

FEOM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

There is no question that in the old days Mag- 
dalen Brooke had given as much of heart as she 
possessed to Vivian. Marriage with him had 
seemed to hold such high promise — he was a hand- 
some, generous, high-spirited lad, his position in the 
social scale was far superior to her own, he was the 
only child of a man reputed to be rich, he was go- 
ing into the Guards, she was looked enviously upon 
by her friends as having secured a real prize. Her 
life was not particularly bright, happy, or rich in 
prospect until the day when she met him by chance 
at a river picnic. Her mother was the widow of a 
clerk in a Government Office ; her connections were 
nothing more than highly respectable, her income 
extremely limited. Both she and her daughter 
were thoroughly dissatisfied with their position ; 
they were not congenial by temperament, and their 
affection was not strong enough to reconcile them 
to the genteel poverty which is so sore a trial to the 
temper and causes such perpetual friction between 
those who have to share it. The desire to get away 
from home is a marked feature in gilds of the pres- 


74 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


ent day, who seem willing to fling themselves into 
any untried situation rather than put up with the 
restrictions and monotony of home life. Magdalen 
had never considered any outlet but one possible — 
marriage — and in her desirability, the necessity for 
that, the mother entirely concurred. She was per- 
fectly conscious of the value of her daughter’s 
beauty, but it was a constant source of irritation to 
her, indeed to both, that it could not be brought to 
a fitting market. They lived in a suburban villa 
near the Thames, mixing with people who had no 
pretensions to fashion ; the young men of their ac- 
quaintance were hopelessly ineligible, nor did Mrs. 
Brooke see any chance of improving their situation 
or surroundings. Living in London, with no con- 
nections and limited means, was not likely to con- 
duce to their social advancement. So Vivian’s 
advent on the scene had been hailed as an opening 
to a life of honour and prosperity. 

When his letter came announcing the ruin that 
had befallen him and his (and with his natural 
truthfulness he made no attempt to palliate it), 
mother and daughter realised at once that their 
hopes in this quarter were shattered like a house of 
cards. Magdalen loved him, but she did not love 
him well enough to bear, even in a greater degree 
than she had already borne, the carking cares of 
poverty ; the petty worries that rob life of every 
vestige of romance, and make it a mean, squalid, 
sordid thing. Girls nursed in the lap of luxury 
can make quite pretty pictures in their minds of the 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


75 


delight of sharing poverty with the man they love, 
but the girl who has a practical knowledge of the 
subject has no illusions. After all was at an end 
between her and Vivian, the only chance wliich 
presented itself to her of materially improving her 
condition was marriage with Captain Vernon, and 
that she took at once, and we know to what a posi- 
tion of fashion and notoriety she subsequently at- 
tained. For a time she had derived an immense 
deal of i)leasure and satisfaction from her dehut in 
the paradise of the smart world, but of late a cold 
dissatisfaction had crept in to mar its joys, and she 
had an aggrieved sense of not being happy and a 
pettish resentment at the palling of pleasures which, 
seen from a distance, seemed so great and all-satis- 
fying. It was the discontent of an idle woman who 
wasted her time in frivolity. Her head was not 
strong nor her mind well-balanced — neither was 
fortified by the life she led ; the moral atmosphere 
in which she lived was exceedingly unhealthy, and 
the French novels which alone constituted her men- 
tal pabulum were not calculated to impress her with 
the beauty or desirability of domestic virtue. She 
was pleased to call the cravings of her restless 
vanity heart-hunger — she assured herself that love 
was the fh’st want of a woman’s soul ; that if she 
was allied to a man who failed to inspire that senti- 
ment in her, she must seek it elsewhere. Society 
acknowledged the existence of this want — were not 
the names of half the women of her set coupled 
with those of men other thaia their lawful lords ? 


76 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


She had been rather disappointed that, so far, none 
of the gilded youths who flocked about her had been 
able to inspire anything like a grande passion in her 
heart — they were so restless, so dull, in spite of the 
boisterous spirits which at times they were pleased 
to assume, and for the most part she could not but 
feel that Tennyson’s order of things was inverted, 
and that she, instead of being a little dearer than 
liis horse to her young admirer, ranked just after it, 
as racing was a positive mania amongst the set. 
She was bored, and men came to her to be amused, 
instead of to try and amuse her. She went racing 
herself, and found it very profitable — indeed, that 
was the vehicle which made it possible for her to 
receive gifts and money which could scarcely have 
been offered or accepted in cold blood, but racing 
in itself did not amuse her. 

The sight of Vivian after all these years had been 
a revelation to her. She knew with swift intuition 
that here was the man who, if he chose, might be 
lord of her heart, and she would have given a great 
deal to know that he would choose. She had, how- 
ever, no such certainty ; nay, the conviction took 
root in her heart that, with his high moral sense, he 
would be proof against all the armoury of her charms 
and fascinations. She was naturally ten times more 
anxious to try them upon him. 

To-night she was to have her chance, and all 
through dinner, whilst she was apparently talking 
in the most natural manner in the world, she was 
considering how to open the siege. Dinner was 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


77 


over, and they had returned to the drawing-room. 
She ensconced herself amongst her cushions, and 
Vivian took a chair opposite, but she made a friendly 
little gesture inviting him to sit beside her on the 
couch. He had thought it familiar and wanting in 
respect on Lord Helvellyn's part to be sitting so 
close to her, but, now that she motioned him the 
same place, he felt it would have been churlish to 
make any demur. 

“ I am so glad you came,” Magdalen said, in her 
softest tones. 

“ And so am I,” he replied, with great heartiness. 

“ And you do not think quite so badly of me as 
you did ? ” she asked, with a pleading smile. 

“ I think badly of you ? ” he said, in a deprecat- 
ing voice, and indeed at this moment he wondered 
how he could have been so harsh in his judgment. 

The sight of her relations with her children had 
banished all but kind thoughts of her — he was con- 
tent to forget everything else, if she would let him. 
But she would not. She knew that he had ar- 
raigned her in his heart, and she meant to win 
over her judge. 

“ Do you think I have forgotten all about you ? ” 
she asked gently. “ Do you imagine I do not know 
what you would be likely to think of my present 
life ? I want to talk to you about myself ; will it 
bore you ? ” 

“ No, indeed,” he answered frankly. “ I shall 
like to hear anything you care to tell me.” 

“ I do not mean to pretend,” she said, “ that the 


78 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

world has no charms for me or that I detest society, 
but I want to tell you how I have got drawn into 
this vortex, and that, now I am there, 'I would 
gladly get out of the rush and hurry of it and lead 
a life that would, at all events, satisfy my heart 
more.” 

She raised her eyes to his, but recognised at once 
in their frank, steadfast expression that he was not 
to be lured into the faintest semblance of a flirta- 
tion. He was taking her au grand sSrieux ; he 
was evidently anxious and willing to help her to a 
more serious view of the responsibilities of life. 
He would preach to her, she thought — that would 
be a bore, but his desire for her moral welfare must, 
she knew, be the first link to unite them. 

Vivian looked at her with earnest interest. His 
thoughts of her were quite different from what 
they had been two hours ago. She seemed so en- 
tirely unlike the heartless, fashionable woman he 
had expected to find ; he looked upon her as a beau- 
tiful, yielding creature sinned against by society, 
and most of all by the man who ought to have been 
her shield and buckler against the world. The 
sight of her children hanging about her neck had 
chased away every harsh thought of her, and he 
saw in her only the capacity for better things. So 
he replied to her, with frank earnestness. 

“ But surely those sweet little children ought to 
satisfy all the longings of your heart ? ” 

A shaft of impatient scorn vibrated in Magda- 
len’s breast, but she gave no evidence of it. Of 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


70 


course he had that extraordinary fatuity of men in 
general — especially the best sort of men — that chil- 
dren are the panacea for every feminine woe or 
want ; if a woman has children, it is not only her 
bounden duty hut must he her highest pleasure to 
merge her whole identity in theirs. Her joys must 
be all vicarious ; passion, ambition, the desire of 
happiness and life and pleasure on her own account 
must he swallowed up in the maternal instinct of 
which they think and talk so glibly. They deny 
to women the absorbing egotism which they claim 
for themselves : all men are more or less Turks at 
lieart, and would make them slaves — if not to them- 
selves, to their children. In spite of her irritation, 
she answered sweetly enough, 

“I am devoted to my children, but you see 
they are not old enough yet to be companions, and 
there are so many hours when I cannot have them 
with me. Can you not understand,” again fixing 
her liquid eyes upon him, “ that a woman, even 
though she has children, may have as great need 
of sympathy ; may yearn to pour out the longings 
of her heart to someone who comprehends and 
feels for her ? ” 

There was not another man of her acquaintance 
who would not have risen at once to this appeal 
and have entreated, with all the ardor of which 
he was capable, to be allowed to stand to her in 
that position of guide, philosopher, and friend, and 
it piqued Magdalen not a little that her compan- 
ion should take no advantage of the opening given 


80 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


him. He looked sorry for her, but he offered no 
suggestion, for indeed he was thinking to himself 
that, if a woman could not go to her husband for 
sympathy, it was an unhappy state of things, but 
there was no remedy for it. He was man of the 
world enough to know what sympathy meant and 
was sure to lead to between a man and a beautiful 
young woman. 

Magdalen was provoked by his insensibility, 
and could not make up her mind to let him go his 
way in peace. She was immensely attracted to 
him besides, to his good looks, to his superiority 
over the men who were her ordinary associates. 

“ I know,” she went on presently, as he did not 
attempt to break the pause, “ that it is better not 
to talk about one’s troubles — the great secret in 
life is to make the best of things, and to let the 
world imagine that one is prosperous and happy 
and satisfied. But somehow, to-night,” dropping 
her eyes, “ I feel the want to speak, to confide in 
someone. I suppose it is seeing you. Even with 
all these years between, the past rushes back as 
though it were only yesterday and I feel as if I 
want to talk to you as I used to then.” 

She seemed to ignore the fact that they l\ad 
been lovers then, and if he remembered it, he was 
not disposed to remind her of it, he could but 
acquiesce. 

And, even though the love of her had died out 
of his heart, he could not look upon or treat her 
as a stranger. 


OF TEE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


81 


“ I had great ideas about marriage and happi- 
ness,” she went on, “ and of course I know I ought 
not to tell you, but I was disappointed — my illu- 
sions melted away almost at once. I do not want 
to complain of my husband — ^he has never been 
unkind to me — perhaps the fault may have been 
partly in myself ; but our ideas were not congen- 
ial ! ” 

Magdalen’s imagination developed as she went 
on. 

“ I do not think I was meant for a worldly life 
— it does not satisfy me — it leaves me bored, dis- 
contented with myself ; with everything and every- 
one. Just at first, of course, I was flattered and 
pleased, not for long; but to my husband it is 
everything. He doesn’t care for home, he hates to 
spend even one evening quietly, he is quite angry 
sometimes when I do not want to go out.” 

As Vivian’s judgment of the wife melted into 
tenderness, so his anger and contempt against her 
husband increased. He was for a moment carried 
from himself, and said impetuously, 

“ I think his feelings are hardly worth consider- 
ing, if he studies his own amusement more than 
your good name.” 

“ My good name ! ” she repeated, with a vivid 
blush. 

He reddened too. He had not meant to speak 
so plainly, but now that the words had slipped out 
unawares he would not retract them. 

‘‘ I beg your pardon,” he said awkwardly. 

6 


82 


OF THE WOBLB, WORLDLY, 


“ No,” she uttered, with her eyes fixed on his 
face, “ if you are my friend, you must tell me 
what you mean.” 

Vivian cast about him how to veil the unpalatable 
and brutal truth. And, as she still watched him 
with expectant eyes, he said, 

“ Friend or no friend, how can I say a thing like 
this to you ? ” 

“ A true friend may say anything,” she replied. 

She wanted to learn what he really thought — 
how much he had heard about her. 

Vivian spoke at last. His voice was very gentle 
— he would not meet her eyes, but fixed his on a 
point just beyond her. 

“ Do you not know,” he began, “ that the pro- 
nounced admiration, the constant visits of some of 
the men you know — of one in particular — lay you 
open to anything ill-natured the world chooses to 
say ? Every woman whom he singles out suffers 
in reputation — the idea of friendship between him 
and her is laughed to scorn.” 

Magdalen felt extremely uneasy, but she pre- 
served her air of innocence. 

“ People may say what they like,” she remarked, 
“but he is a very good friend — no one can be 
kinder.” 

“ But,” said Vivian, this time fixing his eyes in- 
tently upon her, “ could you bear — could you hear 
to know that the world thought and said such 
things of you even if they were not true ? ” 

Magdalen was half-minded to say, “ What 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 83 

things ? ” but she forbore, lest in his present vein 
of plain speaking he might tell her. So she said, 
with an excellent assumption of innocence, 

“ When one’s conscience is quite clear, I do not 
think one greatly minds what the world says. 
There is so much jealousy, and people are only too 
glad to be down upon one.” 

“ Do you think,” cried Vivian passionately, “ that 
if you had been my wife, I would have allowed a 
breath of scandal to rest upon you ? ” 

“ Ah,” she murmured, with a melting look into 
his eyes, “that would have been different.” 

Vivian felt the look in every fibre — for a moment 
his head seemed to whirl ; then he collected himself, 
and, rising, went to the other end of the room, and 
stood for a moment pretending to look at a photo- 
graph. Then he came back, and said, in a cold, 
constrained voice, 

“ It is getting quite late — I must not keep you 
up.” 

“ Oh,” she exclaimed, “ do not go yet. We 
have not half had our talk out.” 

“ I think it is better not,” he answered quietly. 
“After all, what is the use of it? You must be 
the best judge of your own actions and must lead 
your own life. My ideas are old-fashioned, and do 
not march with the times.” 

“ Your ideas are the right ones,” said Magdalen, 
in a natural and friendly voice, “ and I am going 
to think a great deal about what you have said. 
But, you knoAV,” softly, “ if I do try to change my 


84 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


life, it will be a very uphill fight. I am not very 
wise or very strong, and I must have someone to 
make it easier for me.” 

The appeal from her weakness to his strength 
touched the most sensitive chord in his heart, as it 
was intended to, and roused all his latent chivalry. 

You know,” she went on, in the same tone, 
“ it could not be done all at once, but perhaps 
little by little I might break with this sort of life 
and get fresh interests. Only, if I am left to my- 
self, I shall not have the courage. Won’t you 
come and see me sometimes ? I cannot talk seri- 
ously to other people — they do not understand or 
care.” 

“ But if I came,” said Vivian, “ I should most 
likely find myself de trop, as I was the other day.” 

“ If you would let me know when you were 
coming,” she answered eagerly, “ I would not be 
at home to anyone else.” Then smiling, and speak- 
ing in a lighter tone, “ Jackson will not be likely 
to make a mistake next time.” 

“ But, you knoAV,” said Vivian, “ people Avho 
give good advice are bores. And I am not sure 
that it would not be presumption on my part to 
attempt it.” 

“ Not if I ask you to,” she pleaded, quite humbly. 

After he was gone she sat for a long time think- 
ing, trying to analyse her feelings towards him. 
She recognised tlie superiority of his nature, and 
yet she was half-inclined to be scornfully amused 
at his “ goodness,” as she called it. 


85 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

There was something rather piquant in the idea 
of this handsome young athlete adopting such a 
highly virtuous and moral tone to her— it was a 
strong contrast to what she was accustomed to 
from his sex. She half-smiled as she remembered 
how he had darted off to the other end of the room 
when their conversation had verged on delicate 
ground — she would have to be very careful not to 
frighten him. On one subject she had no doubt — 
she wanted him to love her. For a long time she 
had been bored ; she wanted something to happen 
— something to excite her, to stir her blood. She 
read of wild passions, of love that was a mixture 
of heaven and hell ; of rapture, grief, terror — why 
not she as well as another ? A few days before she 
had been sitting with a woman who had made cer- 
tain confidences to her on the subject of her lover 
— she had spoken of the risks she had to run in 
meeting him ; of the danger and the terror of it. 
And Magdalen had said a little wonderingly, 

“ Is it good enough ? ” and the other had replied, 
with a flash in her dark eyes, 

“ At all events it is the only good there is in 
life.” 

Magdalen’s lip curled. She would not be put to 
shifts or straits to see anyone she desired to see. 
Her husband never asked a question about her 
movements, and never presented himself in her 
drawing-room if anyone else was with her. As to 
its being a crime to love or be loved by a man 
who was not one’s husband, it was a matter so 


86 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


lightly thought and spoken of in her set that Mag- 
dalen’s sense on the subject was altogether blunted. 
Only one thing troubled her as she sat lost in 
thought, that was whether she would ever be able 
to make Vivian care for her. She knew he must 
be taken unawares ; if he saw danger, he would 
escape from it in the only way an honest man can 
-^by flight. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


87 


CHAPTER VII. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

“ Athene ! ” I said, entering my friend’s draw- 
ing-room about three weeks after Vivian’s first 
visit to Mrs. Vernon, “ I have come to ask you a 
favour and to beg you not to grant it.” 

“A riddle,” she uttered smiling. “Sit down 
and be pleased to expound.” 

Athene had been absent for a fortnight, and we 
had great arrears of talk to make up. I, for my 
part, was overflowing with confidences. As she 
was pleased to remark, I had rather a weakness for 
going round a subject before attacking it , and 
upon this occasion she would no doubt have been 
justified in the assertion. 

“ If,” I said meditatively, taking the fire into 
my confidence, “ if Jim Keith had not proposed to 
Violet Wood, or if he had proposed a week sooner 
or a week later, I might have been a happier 
man.” 

“ More riddles ? ” interposed Athene. 

“ If,” I proceeded, unheeding her interruption, 
“ I had not received Jim’s letter announcing his 


88 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


engagement on that particular morning, I should 
not have had to think about a wedding present for 
him, in which case I should not have visited 
Thornhill’s, not have met Mrs. Vernon, not have 
gone to tea with her, not have discussed her with 
Vivian, not have turned devil’s advocate by per- 
suading him to go and see her, and not have 
brought about a state of things which I am now 
spending most of my time in regretting.” 

“ This is rather like the house that Jack built,” 
remarked Athene. “ But I wait to hear more.” 

‘‘Ah! yes,” I replied, “it is that more which 
does not please me. You see, she was so persist- 
ent. I literally compelled to do her bid- 
ding, I i thought he would just go and call, and 
no ^ould come of it.” 

, has harm come of it ? ” asked Athene. 

‘/vtI know,” I replied irresolutely. “He 

/ '.#iiht to call, and two days after he dined tete-d-tSte 
/ with her, and, when I saw him next, he had quite 
- altered his tone about her. He had nothing harsh 
to say of her this time ; made excuses for her, and 
en revanche, was ten times more down upon her 
husband than before. He drew quite a pathetic 
picture of what she might have been under dif- 
ferent circumstances, and insisted strenuously on 
the good there must be in a woman who was so 
devoted to her children. Our positions were 
changed this time — it was I who attacked, he who 
defended her.” 

“ And has he been to see her again ? ” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


89 


“ Yes — once, if not twice, and, as for me, I have 
led a dog’s life. She writes to me or sends for 
me every other day — she will take no denial. 
She pretends the greatest friendliness for me — the 
other night at H House she insisted on distin- 

guishing me by her civilities, to the scornful as- 
tonishment of young Helvellyn and one or two 
more of her admirers. I am not deceived ; I am 
even a little flattered, but it simply means that I 
am the link between her and Vivian, and that she 
is absolutely bent on his capture.” 

Athene made a little gesture of impatience. 

“ Why cannot she leave him alone ? ” 

“ Caprice de femme^'" I returned, with a shrug. 
“ When she has made him thoroughly uncomfort- 
able, she will leave him and turn her attentions 
elsewhere: But at present she is bent on him. 
She seems to me to be like a woman in quest of 
a grande passion more out of idleness and curiosity 
than anything else.” 

“ I do not think we need be afraid for Vivian,” 
said Athene consolingly. 

“ He would not go into it with his eyes open,” I 
answered. But when she has dug her pit and 
overlaid it carefully with her moral aspirations and 
her appeals for sympathy, I should not wonder to 
see him flounder into it before he knows where he 
is. And what annoys me most is that her designs 
interfere with a delightful little scheme of my own, 
and threaten to upset it altogether.” 

“ May one ask the nature of the scheme ? ” in- 
quired Athene. 


90 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


‘‘ One may — at least, you may — from the rest of 
the world it is to be the darkest secret.” 

“ Let me guess, oh, most cunning and mys- 
terious man! To marry Vivian to Stella Wood 
and her thousand a year.” 

“ I know your gift of thought-reading, madam,” 
I observed ; “ it is fortunate for me that I never 
have the smallest desire to keep anything from 
you. Now let me pour my recital into your sym- 
pathetic ear.” 

Looking at her, I saw that she was bending a 
little forward, in the attitude of a person prepared 
to hear something that will interest him deeply. 

“ Athene,” I remarked, dela3dng my story for a 
moment, “ you are really a very wonderful woman.” 

“ So I have heard you say before,” she answered. 
“ Am I developing any fresh peculiarity at this 
moment ? ” 

“ No, it is a delightful one which I have observed 
and blessed a thousand times before. How do you 
manage always to seem interested in everything 
one tells you ? ” 

“ It is very simple,” she replied. “ Because I 
am interested.” 

“ No,” I said, “ that is not possible. I have often 
and often talked to you about my health and my 
misfortunes until you must have been ready to 
yawn yourself into convulsions, and I swear I have 
never, never once seen you even look bored. And 
I have sat by and seen you allow yourself to be 
victimised by other people until my soul has been 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


91 


filled witli righteous indignation and you never 
gave a sign of weariness.” 

“ Do you know, really and truly, Anthony,” she 
replied, “ I do not get bored by hearing people talk 
of themselves. The people who get bored by lis- 
tening to others are those who want to talk about 
themselves.” 

“ Meaning me ? ” I enquired. 

“No, not meaning you more than anyone else. 
There was a time when I was extremely fond of 
talking about myself.” 

“ That must have been before my time,” I 
remarked. 

“ It was — long before. But now I never have 
the smallest desire to confide in anyone about my 
own affairs, and I know,” softly, “ how hard life is 
to many and how even for an hour it may be made 
lighter by thinking that someone cares to know 
how they think and feel.” 

‘ Your words are as pearls,” I replied. “ And 
now you shall exercise your sweet virtue to your 
heart’s content. Know then that during your ab- 
sence I have become the ami intime of the Wood 
family. I have dined there twice since that first 
night of which I told you, and I have given them 
a dinner and taken them to the play. Besides, in 
my lonely and forlorn condition without this dear 
home to come to, I have gone there at five o’clock, 
and have been regaled with tea and muffins and 
treated with great kindness.. And whenever op- 
portunity has offered I have sat with Miss Stella 


92 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


in a corner, doing my best to draw her out, and all 
that I have drawn is sweet and pure and good, and 
I have made various discoveries about her. She is 
moulded of much finer pdte than her mother and 
sister. They are nice, ladylike, and unaffected, 
but I can see that they do not quite understand 
Stella, and that they have the strong dislike of 
originality in anyone belonging to them that is the 
surest sign of mediocrity. Mrs. Wood has even 
gone so far as to apologise to me a little for the 
child’s ‘ high-flown ideas,’ as she calls them.” 

“ What sort of ideas ? ” enquired Athene. 

“ Oh, on all sorts of subjects,” I replied, “ the 
flights of the young mind that wants to try its 
wings, about the existence of toil and suffering. 
Dear little soul ! I never met anyone except you, 
Athene, who had such a horror of suffering for 
others. The old struggle is beginning in her that 
forever torments the mind of him who tries to 
reason — the impossibility of reconciling omnipotence 
with perfect benevolence.” 

“ Oh, Anthony,” cried Athene, with great earnest- 
ness, “ pray be very careful what you say to her. I 
am always so sorry when young people — especially 
girls — begin to want these dreadful problems 
solved. It is all very well for you and me who have 
gone through the battle, and are content to rest 
upon our arms ; but to instil doubt into a young 
mind is like opening the flood-gates.” 

“ Make your mind easy,” I replied ; “ no one has 
a greater horror than I of pulling down what one 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 93 

cannot rebuild — indeed, knowing my sentiments as 
well as you do, I am afraid, if you were to hear 
me holding forth to the little lady sometimes, you 
would think me a bit of a hypocrite.” 

‘‘ That I should not,” she exclaimed, with un- 
usual earnestness. “ Many a time I have felt it 
my sacred duty in talking to young or ignorant 
people to declare my belief in, or to seem to give 
assent to, things which were but as words of empty 
meaning in my ears. We cannot take them at a 
flight from the place where we stood years ago to 
the spot on which our feet are planted to-day — 
they must struggle over the same stony road that 
has bruised and torn us.” 

“ Only, mercifully,” I said, “ a great deal has 
been done for the present generation. They are 
not called upon to believe in eternal perdition and 
other horrors that roused the generous soul to 
revolt formerly.” 

“ So much has been done for them,” said Athene 
sighing, “ that they will end by having no belief, 
or fear, or reverence left. And what else do you 
talk about ? ” 

“ She is sorely exercised about poverty. She 
thinks it terrible that some should have so much 
and others so little. She wants to visit the East- 
End, but her mother will not hear of it. ‘ I should 
like to be rich,’ she said to me one day, ‘ that I 
might be able to give. Can there be anything in 
the world so delightful as giving and making peo- 
ple happy who were miserable ? ’ ” 


94 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 

“ I see,” muttered Athene sympathetically, 
“ that she has the instincts of a generous mind. She 
must be a charming creature, and I should like to 
know her.” 

“ She is dying to know you,” I replied eagerly, 
“ She loves to hear about you.” 

“ Oh, Anthony, I wish you would not be such 
an ardent partisan. People are always disappointed 
in me who have been led to desire my acquaintance 
by your highly-coloured descriptions.” 

‘‘ I never heard anyone hint as much,” I replied. 

“Would they dare?” she smiled. “Well, and 
then you talk to her about Vivian ! ” 

“ Not much of late,” I made answer. “ I have 
been afraid since the Vernon episode threatened to 
become serious. And, dear little girl, — she is evi- 
dently falling deeper and deeper in love with him, 
— she is much more shy and reticent about him 
now, and the last time he dined there, though I 
observed that she looked even happier and brighter 
than before, she seldom met his eyes, and was 
more diffident in her manner, as though fearful of 
showing how much she wished to please.” 

“ And Vivian ? ” 

“ Has not a thought of her so far. I have talked 
to him about her, have told him of her confidences 
to me, and he says quite cordially that she is a dear 
pretty little girl, and after a time drops the subject.” 

“ But,” asked Athene, “ do you see any sign of his 
becoming a victim to Mrs. Vernon?” 

“ I have not seen them together,” I replied. “ By- 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 95 

the-way, that reminds me of the favour I have come 
to ask of you.” 

“ And which you insist on my refusing? ” 

“ Will you come and dine with me one night this 
week ? ” 

“I deeply regret,” replied Athene, with great 
politeness, “that I have engagements for every 
single evening.” 

“ You have ! ” I cried, taken off my guard by her 
manner. 

“As a matter of fact I have not,” she replied. 
“You know how rarely I dine out; but in what 
other terms can I couch the refusal which you so 
ardently desire ? ” 

“It is on this wise,” I hastened to explain. 
“ Mrs. Vernon has suggested a. partie carree in my 
rooms, and for Vivian’s sake I do not want it to 
come off.” 

“ Now I, on the contrary, do,” returned Athene, 
greatly to my surprise, “ therefore I withdraw my 
refusal, and have the greatest pleasure in accepting 
for whichever day you like to spread your feast.” 

“Incomprehensible woman! why this perver- 
sity ? ” 

“If I see them together,” she replied, “I shall 
know exactly how matters stand. As for your 
thinking, my poor Anthony, that you can oppose 
the will of a woman where a man is concerned, it is 
simply absurd, and it will be much safer for him to 
see her in our presence than to be alone with her.” 

“ The unexpected again ! ” I observed. “ I 


96 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


thought you would be most indignant with me for 
conniving at their meeting.” 

‘‘ Let them meet this once,” she said, “ and if we 
think she has wicked designs and he is in danger, 
we will do all we know to circumvent her after- 
wards.” 

“ So now,” I said, secretly delighted at the turn 
things had taken, “ it only remains to name the 
happy day.” 

“ I suspect it has been named already,” said the 
astute fair one, and I was forced to admit that Mrs. 
Vernon had suggested Wednesday or Thursday. 

“ Now for details,” she pursued ; “ it will be bet- 
ter that we two women should arrive together, so, 
if agreeable to Mrs. Vernon, I will call for her a 
little before eight.” 

“ That would be perfect,” I agreed. ‘‘ The fourth 
guest has yet to be bidden.” 

“ Yes, we cannot play Hamlet without the Prince 
of Denmark, so when he accepts, and all is finally 
settled, send me a line.” 

“ I will come and tell you this time to-morrow ; ” 
and, after some other chat which did not concern 
either Vivian or Mrs. Vernon, I took my leave and 
went to the club to write to Vivian. 

I received his answer, a cordial acceptance, the 
following morning. I was so anxious that the 
banquet should be worthy of the convives that my 
scruples and fears about Vivian and my share in 
his possible undoing were scattered to the winds. 

The evening arrived. I had just returned from 


I 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. ^97 

a last visit to the dining-room, where I had been 
to assure myself that the flowers were arranged to 
my liking and my new candleshades effective, 
when Vivian was announced. I had never seen 
him in better spirits — he was as radiant with 
health and life as a young god, and there was no 
trace about him of the stern censor of morals who 
had delivered such merciless judgment on Captain 
and Mrs. Vernon not a month ago. The clock 
was striking eight as the two ladies came in. 

“ Are we not good ? ” cried Mrs. Vernon trium- 
phantly — “ just as the clock strikes.” 

“ You are as punctual as Monte Christo,” I re- 
plied, and we all exchanged greetings of unfeigned 
cordiality. 

I am satisfied, having minutely cross-questioned 
Athene to see if her ideas coincided with mine, 
that there could not have been in London that 
night a cheerier or pleasanter little dinner. My 
cares of host were materially lightened by my ser- 
vant, who possessed the most correct ideas on the 
subject of little dinners, and his taste in table 
decoration was quite abnormal. The two ladies 
paid me the prettiest compliments, and appeared 
to be genuinely pleased — we were all in the best 
of spirits and extremely well-disposed to each 
other. I could not see a trace of anything like a 
desire to flirt on Mrs. Vernon’s part — she looked 
more lovely than ever in a white frock so simple 
that a young girl might have worn it, and she did 
not wear a single jewel — she had completely 


OF THE WOULI), WORLDLY, 


dropped a slight artificiality of voice and manner 
that I had remarked in her during the second 
period of our acquaintance, and the relentless old 
scythes-man seemed to have paused in her favour, 
so like was she to the Magdalen Brooke of other 
days. She and Vivian behaved just as one would 
have expected two young people to behave who 
had once been great friends, and now met after 
a long parting. I wondered if my penetrating 
Athene observed anything that was hidden from 
my grosser senses, and now and then sought to 
question her with my eyes, but she appeared quite 
blind to my interrogations, and contributed her 
full share to the light and pleasant stream of talk. 

Dinner being over, we adjourned to the sitting- 
room, and Athene seated herself at the piano, hav- 
ing first made it a stipulation that her music should 
not be a barrier to conversation. I reclined in a 
low chair near her, and closed my eyes, as was my 
wont when she played, and my soul forthwith 
departed into that dream region, half-sensuous, 
half-spiritual, where sympathetic playing or sing- 
ing always carries me. 

When, after a space, I opened my eyes and 
came back to earth and glanced in the direction of 
Vivian and Mrs. Vernon, they were seated on a 
couch near the fire, absorbed in conversation. Now 
that she believed herself unobserved, Mrs. Vernon’s 
attitude and demeanour were in strong contrast 
from what they had been at dinner — her soul was 
in her eyes ; she, was regarding Vivian with a 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY, 


99 


strange intensity, and her manner was eager, 
almost excited. As for liim, he evidently listened 
with the deepest interest : now and again raising 
his eyes to her face, but not keeping them there 
long. A sense of irritation was stirred in me, and 
my old conviction returned that I ought not to 
liave connived at this meeting. Poor little Stella ! 
her chances of happiness were being made mince- 
meat of by this dangerous rival. 

I bent towards Athene. 

“ It is high time we interfered,” I whispered. 

Athene played on for a few minutes, and then 
after a short burst of spirited music closed with a 
few final chords. This I recognised as the an- 
nouncement to the pair that their solitude d deux 
was over. She rose slowly and approached the 
fire. Watching Mrs. Vernon narrowly, I saw a 
gesture of impatience escape her, but in a moment 
she had altered the whole expression of her face, 
and resumed the bright, natural manner she had 
worn during dinner. Conversation became gen- 
eral again, and when Athene’s carriage was an- 
nounced we were all taken by surprise at the flight 
of time. 

‘‘ I have had the most delightful evening,” Mrs. 
Vernon said to me with the sweetest smile, as I put 
her cloak round her. “ I hope you will ask me 
again.” 

With the greatest effusion I falsely said that I 
would, but in my heart I was reiterating, “ Never 
again, my lady ; I will be no party to your wicked 


100 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLHLY. 


machinations.” Then I gave my arm to Athene^ 
motioning Vivian to go before us with Mrs, 
Vernon. 

“ Well ? ” I asked, in a hurried voice of my 
beloved as we descended the stairs. 

“ There is no doubt of her intentions,” Athene 
answered, in a low voice, “ but Vivian does not 
see through them at present.” 

“ She will be the ruin of him,” I muttered 
vindictively. 

“ I hope not, but we must try and find some way 
of opening his eyes. But, mind ! not a word to 
him to-night. Come to me to-morrow at five.” 

When we had put the ladies into the carriage, 
Vivian and I went upstairs and had a cigar. He 
was in the best of spirits, his eyes were radiant and 
full of fire, he congratulated me with great warmth 
on the success of my entertainment. I hoped he 
would have gone on to speak of Mrs. Vernon, but 
he did not — he plunged at once into his private 
affairs. It was all settled about the partnership — 
in three months he was to be partner with fifteen 
hundi’ed a year and ever-increasing prospects. 

“ So after all,” he said brightly, “ Fate has not 
been so unkind to me, and I daresay I shall be all 
the better and happier in the future for having had 
to work my way instead of leading an idle and 
selfish life.” 

“ And then,” I observed, with some solemnity, 
“ you will have to marry.” 

“ n^y vois pas la nicessiU^'' he laughed. “ No, 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY, 


101 


I shall take a little place on the river and we will have 
a great time, Tony, you and I and a few more choice 
spirits. I think we will keep Eves and serpents 
out of our little Paradise.” 

“ I hope you may,” I thought grimly, “ but just 
now it does not look much like it.” 

I was burning to talk to him about Mrs. Vernon, 
but the deterrent remembrance of the proverbial 
fool checked me. Still I could not let him go 
without a word. 

“ Mrs. Vernon looked very well and seemed 
very cheery,” I observed at last ; “ it made me 
think of old times.” 

Then I bit my lip. That was just the thing I 
would rather not have said. 

“ Did she not ? ” he replied, with enthusiasm. 
“ Ah ! what a charming woman there is the making 
of there ! ” 

I had a grudging desire to depreciate. 

“ I am afraid it is too late now,” I replied. 

“ It is never too late ! ” he cried, with enthusiasm. 
“ All her aspirations are good, she only wants to 
be helped to keep the goal in view.” 

Then I said something spiteful. It is no use 
pretending that it is only women who have the art 
of sticking moral pins. 

“ It would be a great deal better for her if she 
were not so much en Svidence with Helvellyu and 
men of his stamp.” 

Vivian started and coloured. 

“ Helvellyn,” he echoed. 


102 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


“ Yes, he was at the play with her twice last 
week.” 

“ I suppose her husband was with her.” 

“ Oh, yes, he was in the background posing as 
guardian angel or sheep dog, or whatever his role 
is.” 

“ Do you mean Lord Helvellyn ? ” asked Vivian. 

“ He was my fag at Eton, but I only know him 
just to nod to now. I know of him though.” 

“ What do you know of him ? ” 

“ That he is a young fool with vicious proclivi- 
ties, who would think it a feather in his cap to 
compromise a woman like Mrs. Vernon.” 

There was a pause, then Vivian rising abruptly 
said, 

“ Well ! I must be off — I have to be up early 
to-morrow. Thanks, old chap, for a very pleasant 
evening.” 

But his voice had not quite its usual cordial ring, 
and after he was gone I cursed myself for a med- 
dling fool, and wished I had taken heed to Athene’s 
parting injunction. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


103 


CHAPTER VIII. 

FKOM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Vivian had spent a thoroughly happy evening, 
but ss he walked away from Anthony’s rooms he 
had almost forgotten the fact. A disagreeable 
revulsion of feeling had come over him at the men- 
tion 3f Helvellyn’s name. He had not so much as 
heard it since the night he dined with Magdalen, 
and he had almost forgotten his existence. He 
wanted to believe in her — the thought which he 
hid at first laughed to scorn of being her friend 
wis now most pleasing to him, and he had so far 
deceived himself that what he once declared impos- 
sule now seemed to him the most natural thing in 
tie world. Why not ? he had been so much to her 
oice — was it not perfectly natural that he should 
tike a strong interest in her now, want to help her 
ii it lay in his power ? And she had told him that 
i did lie in his power ; that he could give her the 
noral support of which she stood in so much need 
—why, even to-night she had insisted upon it al- 
nost with vehemence. She had told him that she 
(Duld not do without him, that she would have to 
ace ridicule and even her husband’s anger if she 


104 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


withdrew herself all at once from the life which 
had become second nature, but that gradually, if 
he helped her, she would draw off from it, and from 
her intimacy with people who she knew exercised 
a bad influence over her. But she must have him 
to talk to her, to encourage her. He had promised 
to go and see her again the next day, because their 
conversation to-night had been interrupted at a 
most critical moment. That allusion of Anthony’s 
to Lord Helvellyn had come like a cold dojiche. 
Why had she not told him of her two visits to the 
play in that man’s company ? It looked as though 
she were afraid to trust him — he could not fring 
himself to believe that she would willingly dejjeive 
him. But — and he set his teeth — he would ibt be 
her friend if she insisted on keeping Helvell}ai as 
well. She must choose between them. 

Vivian was not deceiving himself wilfully — le 
positively did not know that he was jealous of h^r, 
or that his growing desire for her society was likely 
to be dangerous to his peace of mind. As }et 
there was no passion in his heart for her — onj 
tenderness and pity. He was perfectly alive to h|r 
beauty, but it seemed almost a misfortune to hin, 
since it exposed her to more than common tempfi- 
tion. If Vivian had had more to do with womej, 
he would have been better on his guard, and ni 
so lightly have undertaken the office of mentor h 
a beautiful woman whom he had once loved. H^ 
was going to buy that costly possession, experience 
with some of his heart’s best blood. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 105 

At half-past five the following afternoon he 
stopped at Magdalen’s house. A man with the 
unmistakable cut of a valet was standing on the 
doorstep, with an immense bouquet in his hand, 
which he gave to the servant who opened the door, 
saying, “ With his lordship’s compliments.” 

It jarred on Vivian — the very fact of the man 
giving no name showed that he was in the habit 
of coming to the house. As he was announced, 
Magdalen rose to meet him with a joyous light in 
her eyes. 

“ I am so glad you have come,” she cried, and 
then, with a woman’s quick intuition, she added, 
apprehensively, “ Something is wrong ! and some- 
thing has vexed you ! What is it ? ” 

He was embarrassed, and did not know what to 
say — after all, he had no right to take her to task, 
and then, with a sudden revulsion of feeling, he 
said to himself that he had the right. And, if he 
was to be her friend, it was his bounden duty to 
speak plainly to her. 

“ Why are you not frank with me ? ” he asked, 
fixing her with those fine, speaking eyes of his. 
“ If I am your friend, why do you not treat me as 
one ? ” 

A vivid blush mantled in Magdalen’s cheek. 
What had he discovered? There were so many 
things on her conscience that she did not want him 
to know. She had not altered her life in any way, 
in spite of what she told him. She wanted to 
have him, and to keep friends with her Mammon 


106 OF THE WOBLI), WORLDLY, 

of unrigliteousness too ; he being outside the orbit 
in which she moved, she flattered herself that she 
would be able to serve two masters without either 
being the wiser, for she did not want the other 
men to know about Vivian any more than she 
wished him to know about them. 

“ I do not understand,” she answered. “ What 
have you heard ? Who has been speaking to you 
about me ? ” 

‘‘ It was your own suggestion,” he replied, “ that 
you should tell me what you do and where you go. 
And,” with emphasis, “ you did not tell me that 
you were at the play twice last week with Lord 
Helvellyn.” 

“ Oh,” she said evasively, ‘‘ you know what I 
think of him.” 

“ I know what I think of him,” retorted Vivian. 

“ He is a fool,” Magdalen uttered apologetically, 
“ but there is no harm in liim.” 

“ I think we have different ideas on the subject 
of harm,” remarked Vivian stiffly. 

Magdalen was not altogether displeased. He 
was showing evident symptoms of jealousy. 

“ Can you not trust me ? ” she murmured, in a 
tone of pathetic appeal. 

“ It is not a question of trusting,” he replied 
warmly. “ What are your ideas of harm ? Is it 
harm that a man should want the world to believe 
that he is the lover of a married woman, or is it not ? ” 

Magdalen wished in all sincerity that Vivian 
would have euphemisms for his spades. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 107 

“ You hurt me when you talk like that,” she 
pleaded. “ And it is not true. Lord Helvellyn 
has struck up a tremendous friendship with my 
husband — they are always going racing together, 
or somewhere. We are in the habit of going a 
good deal to the play, and, if I were to make ob- 
jections now, my husband would wonder, and 
would be sure to make himself disagreeable. And 
oh ] ” with an entreating glance at Vivian, “ I 
don’t want to quarrel with him — life is difficult 
enough as it is.” 

She was playing her hand extremely well, and 
knew it by the softened expression on his face. 

You are going to meet him to-night,” he re- 
marked tentatively. 

“ Oh,” she answered indifferently, “ Lady M 

has a small party, and he is sure to be there.” 

I arrived on the doorstep with his bouquet,” 
remarked Vivian coldly. 

“ He is always sending flowers,” she answered 
lightly. “ There is no harm in that — it is a foreign 
custom, and a very pretty one, I think.” 

Vivian froze again. 

After all,” he said, “ I do not think we have 
understood each other. You are really very well 
satisfied with your life and do not mean to change 
it, and I — pray forgive my bluntness — I cannot 
respect or sympathise with a woman who deliber- 
ately chooses it.” 

His bluntness was inconvenient, but Magdalen 
liked him all the better for it. 


108 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


“ I will not give you up whatever happens,” she 
said, turning her beautiful eyes full upon him. “ I 
care more, much more, what you think than about 
anything else, because,” she went on, afraid of 
alarming him, “ I know in my heart that you are 
right. Well ! ” with an air of apparent determina- 
tion, “ I will send back his bouquet : I will cut 
him, and, if necessary, I will quarrel with my hus- 
band about him.” 

She had not the faintest intention of carrying out 
one of her threats, but she uttered them with so res- 
olute an air that he, being the incarnation of truth- 
fulness, was quite deceived. He felt the necessity 
of drawing in his horns. 

“ I should not wish you to be rude to anyone,” 
he said, in a milder tone, “ and it is always a mis- 
take to make enemies.” 

“ I do not think half measures are of any use,” 
answered Magdalen, still assuming a determined 
manner. “When I give up the life with which 
you are so fond of taunting me,” (in an injured 
voice,) “ there is bound to be a great deal of un- 
pleasantness between my husband and me.” 

“ I taunt you, Magdalen ! ” cried Vivian, with a 
pained look, and she rejoiced secretly ; it was the 
first time that he had called her Magdalen since 
they had parted those long years ago. 

“Yes,” she repeated tremulously, “ you taunt me 
— it is quite true.” 

Vivian was conscious of a dreadful impulse to 
take her in his arms and console her, and he had 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


109 


to walk a few yards away and look at a photograph 
which he did not see in the agitation of the moment. 
His voice sounded cold, even to himself, as he said, 
returning to the fire, 

“ I cannot imagine that any husband would wish 
to force a man upon his wife whom she did not 
care to know.” 

“ My husband,” answered Magdalen, “ only looks 
upon things in the light in which they affect him. 
He likes good dinners and smart people, and going 
about in the best way, and Lord Helvellyn can 
gratify all these tastes to the full.” 

The measure of Vivian’s wrath and contempt for 
Captain V ernon was becoming ever fuller. He had 
not yet seen him, and dreaded a meeting of all 
things — it would be absolutely impossible to take 
his hand — he felt even less unfriendly to Helvellyn 
than to this contemptible hound. 

“ You do not realise,” pursued Magdalen, keep- 
ing her vantage-ground, “ how unhappy a man can 
make his wife without being absolutely unkind to 
her. Now Dick is delightful to me because he is 
having such a pleasant time, but” (sighing) “I 
am afraid if I did not go out he would not be 
asked, and then he would be cross and irritable, 
and my life would be unbearable.” 

“ Then it seems to me,” said Vivian desperately, 
“that there is no chance of your getting out of 
your present groove.” 

“ When I am stronger, morally stronger,” and 
she looked appealingly at him, “ I shall draw away 


110 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

gradually. Have patience with me and trust me 
a little longer, won’t you, Vivian ? ” 

Her tone and look thrilled him, and he became 
aware that there was a power to be reckoned with 
which, up to the present, he had ignored. 

“ Oh, yes, of course,” he said abruptly, hardly 
knowing what he was saying. “ Where are the 
children ? I have not seen them for an age.” 

“ I will ring,” said Magdalen. “ No, I will go 
and fetch them.” 

She did not want the children just now. She 
knew perfectly well the state of his mind, and 
desired nothing better than to draw him on. She 
had no intention of fetching the children, but meant 
to invent an excuse for their non-appearance. Sud- 
denly, however, she changed her mind, and smiling 
up at him said, 

“ Come up to the nursery with me. They are 
sure to be untidy and nurse will be very angry, but 
we must risk that.” 

She ran gaily up in front of him, and they were 
greeted with shouts of joy as they appeared on the 
threshold. Vivian was soon in the midst of a 
game of romps, and when twenty minutes later he 
and Magdalen descended to the drawing-room, they 
were laughing and chatting merrily, and he at all 
events had no unpleasant arriere-pensSe of the gene 
of half an hour before. 

“ And you won’t forget about the Zoo on Satur- 
day ? ” Magdalen uttered, as she bade him good-bye. 
“ You must not disappoint the children.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


Ill 


“No fear,” he answered gaily, in the slang of 
old days. “ It will be quite a treat to me too, — 
I have not been there for an age.” 

They parted in the friendliest manner, the visit 
to the nursery had given a healthy, happy tone to 
their thoughts. Magdalen’s morbid craving for a 
passion of the French novel type was in abeyance 
for the moment, she was swayed by truer and better 
impulses, and, as she leaned back amongst her 
cushions and gave herself over to her thoughts, she 
recognised, in however transitory a manner, the 
beauty of sacrifices made for a being worthily loved. 

She was to meet Lord Helvellyn that evening, 
and she determined to treijfc him with coldness — at 
all events, in a manner that should give no oppor- 
tunity to the maliciously disposed to tell Vivian 
tales about her, — by the way, whom had she to 
thank for informing him of her visits to the play 
in Helvellyn’s company ? But as even the greatest 
tyro amongst us knows that to resolve and to carry 
out are two very different things, so Magdalen was 
compelled to realise this fact, for probably the 
thousandth time in her life. 

Almost the first person she saw on entering the 

room at Lady M ’s was Helvellyn, but, contrary 

to his invariable custom, he did not rush towards 
her, but contented himself with a slight bow, and 
continued his conversation with a very handsome 
woman who was standing beside him. A minute 
later they disappeared togetlier in the direction of 
the conservatory. Two or three men came up and 


112 


OF THE WOELB, WOELBLY. 


did their best to be agreeable to her, but she was 
distraite and her eyes wandered constantly to the 
opening through which the pair had disappeared. 
The woman was the one who had occupied Helvel- 
lyn’s affections and attentions until he met Mag- 
dalen — the one whom he had discarded for her. 
Now it would seem that her sway was not quite a 
thing of the past, and Magdalen experienced a sen- 
sation of angry pique. Her vanity was at stake, 
and her intention of treating Helvellyn with cold- 
ness went to make a fresh paving-stone in the 
domains of Pluto. She recognised the fact that 
she would, instead, have to treat him with more 
kindness and cordiality than usual. 

Nearly an hour passed, she began to wonder un- 
easily if he had left the house, when he reappeared 
with a flushed and bored expression and made his 
way towards her. As he approached, she gave 
him her most charming and welcoming smile. 
Had Vivian been there to see it, he would at once 
and for ever have thrown all his illusions about 
her conversion to the winds, and have gone his 
way a wiser, if, momentarily, a sadder man. But 
the hour of his awaking had not yet struck. 

“ Come to supper,” said Helvell}^, with some 
brusqueness, and Magdalen, who had declined the 
suggestion already made some half-a-dozen times 
to her, put her hand on his arm and said, with 
submissive sweetness, 

“ Yes, I should like to. I am so tired of stand- 
ing here.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 113 

“ I have been tr3dng all I knew for the last half- 
hour to get away,” he whispered, “ but I couldn’t. 
I have been catching it hot, I can tell you.” 

“You have?” murmured Magdalen, with the 
wondering, innocent air which was one of her 
greatest charms. “ Why, what can you possibly 
have done ? ” 

“ She is infernally jealous,” he answered. “ It 
is all about you.” 

Magdalen accentuated her expression of inno- 
cent wonder. 

“ About me ! ” 

“ She says I neglect her, and that I am always 
with you and in your house.” 

There was a touch of gratified vanity mingled 
with his tone of complaint, and a feeling of revul- 
sion thrilled through Magdalen as she realised his 
contemptible nature. What man with the in- 
stincts of a gentleman would speak so of one 
woman to another ? She mentally contrasted him 
with Vivian, and the process made him doubly 
distasteful to her. But he was at the present mo- 
ment far too potent a factor in her social success 
to be allowed to slip from her grasp, and anyone 
who observed them (and many did) might have 
imagined that she held him in the highest esteem 
and favour. There was no doubt in Helvellyn’s 
mind on the subject, and he waxed more confiden- 
tial and familiar, going so far as to repeat to her a 
good deal of the conversation in which he had 
lately taken part and which appeared to have been 
somewhat stormy in character. 


114 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 

‘‘ What’s the good of a woman reproaching a 
man because he’s tired of her ? ” observed his lord- 
ship delicately. ‘‘ He can’t help it, and it isn’t 
likely to bring him back.” 

“ Then I shall know,” rejoined Magdalen with 
affected playfulness, though she loathed him in 
her heart, “ how to behave, or rather how not to 
behave, when you are tired of me.” 

Could anything have been further removed from 
treating him with coldness than this speech? As 
she spoke, she was smitten by a bitter consciousness 
of the irony of things. 

Helvellyn replied in the most ardent terms. 
Having given him such a lead, she could not com- 
plain, and, indeed, it was satisfactory to her vanity, 
if it disconcerted her finer feelings. 

After supper he led her away to an alcove, palm- 
shaded and dimly lighted, philanthropically ar- 
ranged with a view to the happiness of at least one 
pair of guests. She made no demur. Helvellyn 
was her show admirer pro tern.,, and the more they 
were en Svidence together, the better it was for her 
social reputation. 

‘‘ I want you to come to Kempton to-morrow,” 
he said. “I have squared Vernon — indeed he’s 
very keen about it.” 

“ I don’t think I can to-morrow,” she answered. 
She did not care for racing, as has been said, and 
hated standing about in the cold. 

A sulky expression came into his face. 

“ Oh, but you must,” he exclaimed. “ I have a 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 115 

nailing good tip, and I’ll put you on if you come.” 

“ Can’t you put me on if I don’t come ? ” she 
asked coaxingly. 

“ No,” he answered bluntly — “ I don’t see why 
I’m not to have some good out of it.” 

“ But it is so cold,” she urged. “ I was nearly 
perished last time.” 

“ I’ll take lots of wraps,” he said ; “ and the ex- 
citement ought to keep you warm. Do come ! 
You must ! ” he urged, putting liis hand suddenly 
on hers. 

Magdalen could not afford to he coy, with the 
recollection of Kate Chiffon’s long bill in the di’awer 
of her writing-table, which Helvellyn’s “good 
thing ” might go far towards settling. 

“ Are you so very anxious ? ” she whispered, 
gently removing his hand, but not betraying by the 
smallest sign how unpleasant the contact of his 
fingers was to her. 

“ Don’t you know that I am ? ” he said, leaning 
nearer to her. 

“ But what will Lady Ida say ? ” 

His reply was worthy of him, and shall not be 
chronicled. 

“ Then I will sacrifice myself upon the altar of 
friendship,” she said playfully. “ And oli, I hope 
that good thing will come off. I want a good tiling 
desperately.” 

“ It’s a cert. But, if that don’t, something else 
shall.” 

“ Everyone is leaving,” uttered Magdalen, rising 


116 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

in spite of his entreaties. “We will meet at the 
station to-morrow. What time is the train ? ” 

He told her, and then took her downstairs, where 
they found Captain Vernon waiting patiently until 
he should he wanted. Helvellyn slapped him cor- 
dially on the shoulder. 

“ It’s all right, old chap ! I’ve persuaded Mrs. 
Vernon to come to Kemp ton with us to-morrow.” 

“ That’s right,” returned Vernon genially, — 
“ we’ll have a real good time.” 

Magdulen was in anything but an angelic temper 
as they drove home. 

“ What a bore that man is I ” she exclaimed irri- 
tably. “ And I hate racing. I was an idiot to let 
him persuade me.” 

“ Oh, you’ll like it when you get there,” he 
replied. “ And I don’t call him at all a had chap. 
I don’t suppose he would set the Thames on fire, 
but he is very good-natured.” 

A biting rejoinder was on the tip of his wife’s 
tongue, hut she restrained herself, * and yawned 
instead. Then she said pettishly, 

“ Oh, how sick I am of this life ! How dull, and 
stupid, and wearisome it all is ! ” 

Vernon turned to look at her. 

“ This is quite neAV,” he remarked. “ I expect 
you have eaten something that has disagreed with 
you. What did you have for supper ? ” 

She turned from him with an impatient gesture. 

However, Magdalen went to Kempton, and spent 
a very pleasant day. She was the cynosure of all 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLHLY. 117 

eyes ; singled out for distinction in high quarters, 
and for the very open and marked attentions of 
Lord Helvellyn, to the undisguised rage of Lady 
Ida and the curious interest of the company at 
large. The “ good thing ” did come off, and Hel- 
vellyn assured her that she had won a hundred over 
it. The world was not quite such a hollow sham 
to-day, and if the doll was stuffed with sawdust the 
seams were so well sewn that none escaped. Hel- 
vellyn was in high good-humour, and promised 
more gains for the morrow if she would come down 
again, but Magdalen felt that just now the Zoo had 
greater charms than Kempton, and declined stead- 
fastly, though with the most perfect graciousness. 
And to propitiate him, she asked him to dine with 
them at their house, and go to a play afterwards, 
and he accepted, and characteristically arranged to 
throw over another engagement which he had made. 

Magdalen knew that Vivian was going into the 
country after the expedition to the Regent’s Park, 
so had no fear of being discovered by him in this 
flagrant breach of contract. 

Captain Vernon was scarcely conscious of Viv- 
ian’s existence. His wife had vaguely mentioned 
to him having received a visit from an old friend, 
but he had not even caught the name. He did not 
exercise the smallest control over his wife’s friend- 
ships or acquaintanceships. He preferred that she 
should cultivate people who were useful to them, 
and jealousy was, apparently, an emotion alien from 
his soul. Magdalen never remembered to have 


118 


OE THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


seen him show the smallest trace of it — then in the 
first flush of his love for her and their earlj mar- 
ried life he had been entirely without cause for 
such feeling. Magdalen was not a flirt by nature ; 
that is, she did not crave nor endeavour to excite, 
the admiration of every man she met. She set a 
certain value on her charms for the social distinc- 
tion and other advantages which they had brought 
her, but it did not give her pleasure to wield her 
power merely for the sake of wielding it. Many a 
time she was horribly bored by the homage she re- 
ceived and the eternal necessity of being gracious 
and smiling to people who inspired nothing in her 
but a dull distaste. In a minor degree she knew 
something of the weariness that is the lot of royalty 
and of those in high places. 

The afternoon at the Zoo was a perfect success. 
The children were in a fever of excited joy. Gladys 
made the most unblusbha^Tavje-iQ.^iyf^ and in- 
sisted on being carried in his arms. 
him round the neck, to the imminent danger of hi^ 
collar and tie, and kissed him from time to time 
with extreme fervour. It was a delightful sensa- 
tion for Vivian, holding this pretty, affectionate lit- 
tle creature ; his heart glowed with tenderness, and 
a great longing came over him to be clasped by lit- 
tle arms that should be his own. To be part owner 
of such a sweet and lovable thing seemed to him 
to be almost the greatest happiness that life could 
hold. 

Magdalen was enjoying and analysing at the 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 119 

same time, comparing to-day with yesterday, and- 
knowing how infinitely better and more wholesome 
was this afternoon’s amusement than yesterday’s. 
But then an unpleasant doubt crept in as to 
whether the comparative wholesomeness of the two 
would not have to be judged by results. She 
. banished it, and laughed and talked gaily and nat> 
urally. The day should be sufficient for itself — she 
would rather not know or speculate upon what the 
future held. Let us eat and drink, for to-mor- 
row we die, is the motto most to the taste of the 
worldling. 


120 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLDLY. 


CHAPTER IX. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

I AM in the sunny South, amongst roses and vio- 
lets, orange-blossoms and anemones, wliere the sun 
rays strike hotly, and where the sky is blue, and 
blue the waters of the tideless sea that laps the 
shore. This charming picture is not always cor- 
rect — there is sometimes a deluge, and sometimes 
a wind to which the sharpness of the serpent’s 
tooth will not bear comparison, and oh ! the deadly 
chill at sunset which strikes to the marrow of those 
who expose themselves to it. I painted my picture 
in the most glowing colours I could command for 
the benefit of my liege lady, and with the ill- 
grounded hope that, if I made it fair and bright 
enough, she might be tempted to come out and join 
me. I am here because for ten days before I left 
London the climate had been unspeakable. Denser 
and more continuous fog than I had ever before 
known made of the spot I love best on earth a city 
of dreadful night. I felt ill and depressed, and my 
genial physician bade me go and look for the sun ; 
and, thank Heaven, I was a free man, and in a posi- 
tion to make the quest. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 121 

“ One would think by your face,” he added, 
“that I was ordering you to take a black dose 
instead of to do the most delightful thing in the 
world. I only wish I was in your shoes.” 

“ Do you ? ” I said gravely, and bestowing on 
him the critical glance of one who expects a 
serious answer to a serious question. 

He laughed. 

“ It is a very odd thing,” he remarked, “ that 
though most of us would be willing to change cir- 
cumstances with someone else now and then, I 
don’t believe there is anyone who would give up 
his individuality. No, I would not change my 
identity for yours or that of any other man — an in- 
stinct of nature, I suppose. Go and amuse your- 
self, my dear fellow. I will write the prescription, 
and you shall get it made up wherever you like. 
If you go to Monte Carlo, put a louis on for me. 
No, keep your fee, and invest it for me on the 
green cloth. I should be a terrible gambler if I 
were an idle man. Good-bye. Bon voyage^ and 
try to make my one talent into ten.” 

I went grumbling to Athene, and she declared 
that he was right, and a change would do me all 
the good in the world. And she bade me seek 
in the South not only health, but an idea for the 
book which she had no intention of letting me off 
writing. 

Well ! I am here — here at the present moment is 
the magnet which draws all Europe, not by her 
beauty, though she well might, but by her appeal 


122 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


to their basest passions. Monte Carlo — I can afford 
to be virtuous, and didactic, and superior about the 
vice of gambling — I can damn it with most thorough 
heartiness, since it is a sin I have “ no mind to.” I 
am a great admirer of Charles Kingsley, but I should 
be content to lie under his ban with the man who 
pronounced human nature to be a poor thing. Tak- 
ing it all round, and making every allowance for 
the way it is handicapped, I do think human nature 
is a poor thing, and if you want to see it at its very 
poorest and worst, go into any room where gambling 
is the business of the hour. I do not like to see it 
under these conditions, so my visits to the tables 
are few and far between. I deposited the doctor’s 
louis as a sacred obligation, a debt of honour, and I 
was exceedingly pleased to take it back with four 
more in its train. And then I came away in 
triumph, in spite of the remonstrance of a friend 
who declared it was a shame not to persevere when 
I was in the vein. When the weather permits, I 
spend most of my day in the gardens or driving 
along the Cornice Road in company with any ac- 
quaintance who will bear me company. I spend a 
great deal of time listening to the splendid orches- 
tra, and on the days when the picture I sent Athene 
is recognisable I am glad I came, and when the 
scene is grey like a photograph, instead of coloured 
like a painting by Turner, I growl and wish myself 
back among the Lares and Penates, and fix a speedy 
date for my return to London and Athene. All 
this morning I have been with her in spirit, for I 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


123 


have received from her what I am sure she describes 
truthfully as the longest letter she has ever written. 
Next to being with her, receiving a letter from her 
is the greatest pleasure I can have ; but there is one 
serious drawback attached to it. As I read I want 
to ask her a hundred questions, to hear all the de- 
tails that not the most exhaustive letter in the world 
can give. Now this delightfully bulky missive is 
crammed into my pocket, and I am ruminating 
upon its contents, which interest me exceedingly. 
This is what Athene writes : 

“ My dear Anthony, 

“ First let me tell you how 
much I miss you — it seems already as though 
you had been gone a month. Every day at five I 
expect the door to open and admit your familiar 
form, and then I remember how far off you are. 
The picture you draw of sunshine and orange blos- 
soms and of the blue tideless sea is very charming, 
if not — forgive me for saying so — very original, 
and, had I Hassan’s carpet, I would take my seat 
upon it this instant, and be with you as soon as the 
wish could be uttered ; but whilst there is that long 
railway journey and the silver streak between us, it 
is you who will have to do all the travelling before 
we can be re-united. I do abhor travelling for its 
own sake, — a gloom falls on my spirits the moment 
I enter a station, and I could not be happy in a rail- 
way carriage under the most pleasing conditions. 
There are days, I admit — there have been a good 


124 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


many of late — ^wlien I have felt capable of almost 
any sacrifice to escape the Cimmerian gloom and 
the poisonous atmosphere of this dear old metropo- 
lis ; when the consciousness that happier mortals 
were basking in sunshine and expanding their lungs 
to inhale pure balmy breezes filled me with a cor- 
roding envy ; but to-day I have felt myself superior 
to all my exiled friends, whether in France, Italy, 
Egypt or Algiers, for it has been a typical English 
winter’s day with a bright pale sky and floods of 
light and such crisp, invigorating air blowing 
straight from sea and mountain that it made me feel 
the — to me — rare sensation of being glad to be alive. 
Laddie and I walked right across the Park to Ken- 
sington Gardens, and returned in a hansom to lunch- 
eon in the best of spirits. This one bright day has 
banished all memory of evil ones gone by. I have 
left off thinking about anthi’acite coal and new kinds 
of grates — at this moment I do not much care 
whether a paternal government interferes with the 
liberty of the subject to force him to consume his 
own smoke or no — the fog of yesterday is as the 
^ toothache of yesterday, a nightmare one can afford 
to forget when one is well awake from the horror. 
And in any case, when the curtains are drawn and 
I am sitting over my cosy fire, I have the best of it 
— there is no such comfort to be had abroad. What 
draughts there are ! — how the wood-smoke hurts 
my eyes, and how altogether abominable it is when 
the wood is green and will not burn. And to have 
to sleep under mosquito curtains is an intolerable 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 125 

nuisance to a restless mortal like myself who is 
forced to read half through the night — sometimes. 
No ! taking it all round, as you are so fond of say- 
ing, I would rather be among my household gods, 
though I am convinced that for you it was the right 
thing to seek change, and I shall be bitterly disap- 
pointed if you do not return looking a different 
being from the pale, depressed Anthony who said 
good-bye to me in this room. Now I am going to 
devote a whole evening to writing to you, and I 
have so much to tell that I expect it will be the 
most voluminous epistle I have ever written or you 
will ever receive ; so no more digressions, but to 
the points — there are two or more. 

“ First then I had a long, long visit from Vivian. 
What an artless creature a man is when he is in 
love — and I am sincerely sorry to record that there 
can be no two opinions about the state of his feel- 
ings, at least in the mind of anyone who has had 
such advantages for gauging them as he has given 
me. Not, dear fellow, that he has the smallest 
consciousness of having betrayed himself. He be- 
gan by evincing such an earnest interest in my 
health, and followed up with so much praise of 
you, that I knew at once all this Machiavellian 
subtlety must have for its object the desire to pro- 
pitiate me. As if I want any propitiation from 
him, and do not take the kindliest interest in all 
that concerns his welfare and happiness. It is very 
certain that Mrs. Vernon will have no share in 
helping him to these desirable ends. Already I 


126 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

see in him the indications which attend an inad- 
missible and unjustifiable passion, a restlessness of 
manner, a worried expression in the eyes, a sup- 
pressed excitability. When I read in books of 
people being in love without having the least idea 
of it, I smile to myself and think that the author 
is either without experience of the tender passion, 
or that for the exigencies of his story he is com- 
pelled to make a statement at variance with the 
truth. Nothing shall induce me to believe that 
girl or woman, boy or man, ever yet loved without 
realising the fact, if not frankly then reluctantly, 
and with excuses and reservations ; but no one in 
the world yet, I am persuaded, ever felt the touch 
of the master-passion without recognising it then 
and there. I need not say I humoured him by ap- 
pearing absolutely blind to all that he did not 
wish me to see, and that I listened with the great- 
est interest to all which friendship prompted him 
to say in behalf of Mrs. Vernon, of the magnitude 
of her temptation, the unworthiness of her hus- 
band, and the sincerity of her desire to lead a less 
frivolous life. But between you and me, and 
without the smallest desire to judge a sister harshly, 
I believe Mrs. Vernon to be perfectly well satisfied 
with her circumstances, and that any dissatisfaction 
she may feel and give expression to, is only the 
outcome of that satiety which the pursuit of selfish 
pleasures engenders in the human heart, and which 
was so thoroughly and minutely described by Sol- 
omon. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


127 


“ I was dining a few nights ago with the 

G ’s. Lady G , as you Know, is a very old 

friend, and she was particularly anxious that I 
should meet the man who wrote that very clever 
article in the Bi-Monthly, ‘ Damned by Faint 
Praise.’ By the way, I found him much more 
pleasant and less self-conscious than most mush- 
room celebrities, and indeed I think and hope he 
will make a permanent mark. Mrs. Vernon and 
Lord Helvellyn were of the party and sat nearly 
opposite me, so that I had an excellent opportunity 
of observing them without appearing to do so. 
The young man has evidently no appreciation of 
the obligations of his nobility, not even good 
manners, for although, being the greatest luminary 
present, he took liis hostess to dinner, he did not 
address half-a-dozen sentences to her during the 
two hours wliich the feast lasted, but devoted him- 
self to making the most unblushing love to Mrs. 
Vernon, who was placed on his right hand. There 
is, as you know, nothing fast or obtrusive in her 
behaviour, — her manners are unimpeachable, — she 
has that ‘ excellent tiling in a woman ’ a low voice ' 
— she rarely laughs, but smiles frequently, and her 
smile is very charming and engaging. But I am 
bound to confess that, in her quiet way, she flirted 
with him d outrance, and I arrived at very certain 
conclusions about the sincerity of the pretty re- 
grets, the hints of heart-hunger, which make so 
profound an impression on Vivian. 

“ I remember your telling me how he laughed to 


128 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

scorn ner confidences to you on the subject before 
he saw and talked to her, and when he was in a 
better position to form a sensible judgment than, 
poor dear boy, he is to-day. His awakening will 
come, never fear — had he enjoyed my opportunities 
of the other evening, his eyes would be wide open 
at this moment. I think she was a little uneasy at 
my proximity, although I was careful not to seem 
to look her way, for after dinner she came and sat 
beside me, and talked in a very sweet, unworldly 
way about her children, and said many civil things 
about the regard which you and Vivian had for me. 
It ended by my inviting her to lunch with me yes- 
terday, and she accepted with as much effusion as 
though I were conferring a great honour upon her. 
We were soon interrupted by the advent of the men, 
and Lord Helvellyn came rushing to her side like 
some ingenuous young Corydon long separated 
from his Phyllis. She asked permission to intro- 
duce him to me, and he had sufficient grace to say 
something intended to be civil, but I took an early 
opportunity of effacing myself, and was glad to 
resume the very interesting discussions I had been 
carrying on at dinner with my new acquaintance. 
I have asked him to come and see me, and, al- 
though it is a bold assertion to make, I am quite 
sure that you will like him. A man who has plenty 
of original things to say, and says them naturally 
and without any apparent wish to pose, must be 
good company. There is nothing I dislike more 
than a jposeur who is often only a person who says 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


129 


and does things which the rest of his kind have too 
much good taste or feeling to do and say, and who 
hopes by this apparent unconventionality to impress 
not very clear-sighted persons with the idea that he 
is original. I admit that he often succeeds in get- 
ting taken at his own valuation ; but when he meets 
with anyone who has sufficient wit and humour to 
show him, without offence, that he is seen through, 
he often cuts a very poor figure, and generally 
ends by getting sulky and refusing to show off his 
tricks. 

“ Mrs. Vernon came to luncheon with me, but I 
think neither of us was quite at her ease. Both 
were conscious that we had met because Vivian 
desired it, and, in spite of my best efforts, she was 
shrewd enough to know that she was not likely to 
impose upon me, especially after our meeting at 
Lady G ’s. 

“ She talked a great deal about Vivian in the 
strain in which a woman talks of a man when she 
cares for him but is afraid of betraying herself, and, 
just for one moment, I was tempted to make a 
veiled appeal to her to let him go free ; hut, for- 
tunately, the common-sense with which you are 
wont to credit me came to my aid. My nature is 
too practical an one to allow me to lead a forlorn 
hope in cold blood. A few times in my life I have 
been carried away, but I have always regretted it 
afterwards. 

I have been writing for an hour and a half, and 
the result is an epistle as long as the letters one 

9 


130 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

sometimes reads in a novel, and laughs at the idea 
of any real person writing. I oan quote Scripture, 
and say with truth, ‘ You see how large a letter I 
have written to you with mine own hand.’ My 
eyes ache, my hand is tired, and I have not yet 
come to the second point. Well, I must conclude, 
as a feuilleton does, with the words, ‘ La suite d 
demain' 

“ Good-bye, my dear Anthony — when you have 
waded through this, I doubt if you will have much 
appetite for a second instalment, but in my next I 
will be less discursive, and avoid all topics save the 
one in hand. This effusion has beguiled an even- 
ing which threatened to be dull, so I at least have 
benefited. So will the revenue by the postage. 
Good-night, good-bye. All kindest and best wishes 
from 

“ Your affectionate 

“ Athene.” 

I sat basking complacently in the sunshine. 
Athene’s letter had brought me near to her — I felt 
almost as if I had just come from her dear presence. 
I chewed the cud of my fancies, and spent a great 
deal of time in speculating how one could' best 
open Vivian’s eyes and show him how he was being 
made the plaything of a vain woman. He had 
always taken things so seriously — black was so 
black and white so white to him — ^lie could not fuse 
the two into a neutral tint and look complacently 


OF THE WOBLB, WOBLBLY. 


131 


at the result. I regretted that he did not go about 
in the set where he could constantly meet Mrs. 
Vernon, as then she could not have hoodwinked 
him, but would be compelled to choose between him 
and Helvellyn. I was tolerably sure that she would 
nqt give up the latter, even though she disliked him 
rather than otherwise — vanity, I was convinced, was 
a stronger motive power in her than love. No 
doubt she would have liked to enjoy both, but if 
that were impossible, and a choice had to be made, 
I did not doubt the result for an instant. Two 
days later came the second instalment of Athene’s 
news. 

“ I was keeping,” she wrote, ‘‘ the news that I 
thought would please you best as a bonne houche^ 
and the consequence was that you did not get it at 
all, but I felt it would be unkind to close like a 
real/(?m7Zgfo7i just as I had whetted 5 mur curiosity 
and interest. So now for my news. I have made 
the acquaintance of your Stella, and I find her all 
that you said, and more. I hope to see a good deal 
of her, and we will try, when we have once dis- 
posed of Mrs. Vernon, whether we cannot bring 
Vivian round to our views and make him happy 
in spite of himself. By the way, I must tell you 
something that will amuse you. A woman came 
to see me the other day (I will not give you her 
name — you do not love her very dearly), and in 
the course of our chat she said, with that innocent 
air which a not very clever woman frequently 
assumes as she draws her bow and sends the shaft 


132 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

home to the quivering breast of her adversary, ‘ Is 
it true that Mr. Courtland is going to many 
Stella Wood ? I had heard it rumoured, and saw 
them at the play the other night, and he was so 
very devoted I thought there might be some truth 
in it.’ I assumed the smile of the Spartan boy with 
the more readiness as the fox she suspected was not 
gnawing my vitals, and replied that you had not 
taken me into your confidence on the subject, but 
that she was a very charming girl, and that such 
a consummation would be most pleasing and desir- 
able. I did not feel justified in telling her that 
you were wooing vicariously, and indeed, my dear 
Anthony, I wish matters might arrange themselves 
in the way she suggested. I am sure you would 
make the best husband in the world, and the com- 
panionship of a bright, gay young creature would 
go far towards curing you of those morbid fancies 
which are at present the greatest drawback to your 
well-being.” 

(I sighed. It is very rarely that Athene says . 
anything that hurts me, but here she opened a 
vista down which I did not care to look. Why 
dream of happiness that I had made up my mind 
was beyond my grasp? And I wondered with 
some bitterness how Stella would have received 
- such a suggestion when her conception of man, 
lover, hero was moulded on Vivian.) 

“ Now to tell you how my talk with Stella came 
about. You will remember you hinted that it 
would be agreeable to Mrs. Wood if I were to call 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


133 


upon her, so I lost no time in obeying your sug- 
gestion. I found her a pleasant, nice-mannered 
woman, an^ we exchanged mutual civilities, and 
naturally talked of you who are the connecting 
link between us. Miss Violet was present, but 
not her sister. I ventured to ask for her, and 
heard that she was having a lesson on the violin, 
but Mrs. Wood urged me to lunch with them in 
order to make her acquaintance. I particularly 
dislike lunching out — I have got into such grooves 
since I became the malade imaginaire which many 
people declare me to be, that it is pain and grief 
to me to step out of them ; nevertheless, in the 
interests of you and Vivian, I accepted, and, as 
it happened, my virtue was rewarded. We were 
six — the engaged pair, an elderly colonel, evi- 
dently devoted to mamma, Stella and myself. She 
sat beside me, and we were soon on the best of 
terms. But as one cannot talk confidentially in 
the presence of other people, I suggested that she 
should drive with me after luncheon and drink 
tea at my house later. Mrs. Wood gave a smiling 
consent to my proposal, and Stella seemed pleased 
with the idea. The result is that I am charmed 
with her — her pretty enthusiasm, the candour and 
vitality of her youth delight me. She has what 
every woman should have, a soft and tender heart ; 
she is brimming over with sympathy for sorrow 
and suffering, and, not contented with sentimen- 
tally pitying, longs to rush to the rescue. She is, 
I perceived, not very fond of her needle, but she 


134 OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY, 

is going to perform prodigies of work for my 
waifs, and some day I have promised to introduce 
her to some of my poor friends. Slip and I will 
become great friends, and then, Anthony, in what 
machinations will not you and I indulge for her 
benefit. Now for another piece of news. Mrs. 
Vernon called to-day and told me that she starts 
for Monte Carlo to-morrow. She and her husband 
are going with a party ; she did not say of whom 
it was to consist, but I can make a very shrewd 
guess at one of the constituent parts. She will 
arrive, I imagine, as soon as my letter — ^you may 
even have seen her already. So now it will be 
your turn to give me news, and I shall await it 
with a great deal of interest. A hientSL 
“ Your affectionate 

“ Athene.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


135 


CHAPTER X. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

The contents of Athene’s letter pleased me. I 
was delighted that she and Stella had become 
friends, and I was by no means sorry to hear of 
Mrs. Vernon’s proposed visit to Monte Carlo. 
For a time Vivian would be removed from her dis- 
turbing influence, and here, where everyone lives 
perpetually en Evidence., and cannot help if they 
would their goings out and comings in being 
known to their neighboui’s, I should have an excel- 
lent opportunity of seeing on what terms she was 
with Helvellyn. For, like Athene, I never for an 
instant doubted that he would arrive in her train. 
I had not long to wait. That very evening I was 
dining at the Grand when Mrs. Vernon’s party 
entered the room, and took their seats at a table 
sufficiently near to mine for me to see and hear 
most of what was going on. The party numbered 
five — Helvellyn, Captain and Mrs. Vernon, Lady 
Benet, a fast and fashionable young woman in the 
best society with the worst reputation, and a man, 
one of her numerous admirers, playfully christened 
the Hatter, in allusion to his madness, which was 


136 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


balanced by sufficient method to make him a 
responsible being. They were very noisy — at 
least, three of them were. Mm. Vernon was al- 
ways quiet and ladylike, and her husband looked 
and behaved like a gentleman and a rational being. 
The other three, however, seemed to court notice 
by their boisterous talk and laughter, and very 
soon their table was an object of attention to most 
of the other diners, certainly to all who were 
within earshot. I could see, too, that many looks 
were directed towards Mrs. Vernon by foreigners 
and people who were not aware that she was one 
of our celebrated English beauties. 

“ What bad form it is,” exclaimed my companion 
irritably, “ for people to behave like that in public ! 
What right have they to obtrude themselves on 
the general notice ? If they want to make a row, 
why don’t they take a private room ? It makes 
me ashamed of my country people.” 

I concurred in his remark. 

“ I wonder Mrs. Vernon likes to go about with 
that Benet woman,” he continued. “ She could 
not be in much worse company, but I suppose she 
thinks titles condone any amount of rowdyism, 
and is flattered by having a cad in her train if he 
is the son of a Duke.” 

The mirth waxed fast and furious at the other 
table, and, glancing at Mrs. Vernon, I thought I 
detected an uneasy look in her face, though she 
preserved a stereot3q)ed smile. Lady Benet was 
tlu’owing bread at the Hatter. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 137 

“ Let’s get out of this ! ” said my friend, and I 
was glad enough to comply. 

It was impossible to leave the room without 
passing the noisy party, but I kept my eyes care- 
fully averted as I prepared to hasten by. But my 
name was pronounced in the clearest accents, and 
I had no choice but to pause, with the guilty air 
of one detected in a fraud, and to say in an unnat- 
ural tone, intended to indicate surprise, 

“ Oh, how do you do ? Are you here ? When 
did you arrive ? ” 

And I gave an inclusive bow to the rest of the 
party, all of whom I knew slightly. 

She smiled very sweetly at me, and I read in her 
eyes a desire to propitiate me ; a pleading glance as 
though asking me not to condemn her for being in 
a situation uncongenial to her, and which I had 
no difficulty in translating into “ Please don’t tell 
Vivian.” 

“ It was quite a sudden thought, our coming,” 
she said. “ I have a message for you — you will 
guess who from” (archly). “ When can I give it 
to you? You will be in the rooms presently, I 
suppose ? ” 

I bowed, and she seeing that I was not disposed 
to linger added, 

“ Mind you come and look for me,” and I hast- 
ened after my friend. 

“ You are a brave man,” he growled, “ to be seen 
speaking to that lot,’' and I explained how I had 
been stopped whilst trying to effect my escape un- 
observed. 


138 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


About an hour later I made my way to the rooms, 
being actuated by a certain curiosity to see Mrs. 
Vernon and Helvellyn together in this new phase. 
I was not long in finding them. They were stand- 
ing at one of the tables — she was playing, and he 
was watching with a flushed, eager face and supply- 
ing her from time to time with the sinews of 
war. 

She was losing when I first went in, and by the 
uneasy look on her face and the trembling of her 
nether lip I saw she had not yet learned to take 
the chances of play with composure. But pres- 
ently came a turn in her luck and she grew radi- 
ant, her eyes kindled, her whole face dimpled with 
smiles, and she showed her pleasure even more 
transparently than she had done her annoyance. I 
have always had a horror of women gambling — 
there is something revolting to me in the evidence 
of that horrible greed of gain — to my mind it un- 
sexes her more than following the most masculine 
pursuit. For the time she is indifferent to, obliv- 
ious of everything else, — she does not know or care 
if she rubs shoulders with the most degraded of 
both sexes — it makes her more prone to anger and 
violence — she is not ashamed to show a contempt- 
ible exultation in her gains — she is not the same 
creature when under the influence of this baleful 
and contaminating vice. Although Mrs. Vernon 
was but a beginner, and as yet far removed from 
the category I have just described, I could still see 
plainly enough how swift the descent to Avernus 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY 


139 


might become, and being in a way ill-disposed to- 
wards her as I was, regarding her as I did in the 
light of Vivian’s evil genius, I wished from the 
bottom of my heart that he was standing beside me. 
I remained but a few minutes — she was too much 
absorbed in her play to think of anyone or anything 
else, and I had little inclination to talk to her 
when Helvellyn was present, as he evidently re- 
garded it as an offence and an impertinence for 
anyone else to monopolise the smallest part of her 
attention. 

I walked through all the rooms — in one I came 
across Lady Benet in altercation with one of the 
harpies who infest the room and make their living 
by taking up or trying to. take up other people’s 
winnings. In another I saw Captain V ernon seated 
in a businesslike way. He evidently had a system, 
and played .quietly and determinedly, without evinc- 
ing the least excitement, pleasurable or otherwise. 
I left the rooms with the feeling of disgust that a visit 
to them almost invariably provoked in me, and went 
into the concert-hall to get my ruffled spirits soothed. 
As I went, I could not forbear asking myself whether 
the husband of Mrs. Vernon was a knave or a fool, 
or only a thoroughly selfish man who was indif- 
ferent to everything Wt his own pleasure. As I 
was unable to find a reply, I left the consideration 
of the subject to a more convenient opportunity 
and gave myself over to the thraldom of my senses 
by the most entrancing music imaginable. I saw 
nothing more of the party that evening, but the 


140 OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 

next day i came face to face with Mrs. Vernon in 
the grounds. To my surprise she was alone. 

“T was looking for you,” she said, with a smile 
which was intended to turn my head. “ I left the 
others in the rooms and came out on purpose to 
find you. Now, as of course you know the place 
by heart, and it is my first visit, take me to some 
spot where we can have a lovely view and a quiet 
talk at the same time. Somewhere,” she added, 
“ where they will not be likely to find us.” 

I obeyed her behest not without pleasure — the 
companionship of a beautiful woman bent on pleas- 
ing could not be otherwise than agreeable to a 
man as impressionable as I am to beauty and 
charm, but as X walked beside her I was smiling in 
my sleeve and saying, 

“ Ah, my lady, if you think you are going to 
coax and cajole me as you have done my unhappy 
friend — if you think I shall be glamoured by an 
hour’s talk into thinking an ace better of you than 
I do at tliis moment, you are wasting your time. 
But, in any case, it is to my unmixed benefit that 
you should waste it ; therefore bring out all your 
implements of war, empty every shaft in your 
quiver upon me, blind me with the cords of your 
fascination, — I am invulnerable. But at least I 
hope I am as good an actor as you, and I am pre- 
pared to accord you all the honours of supposed 
victory.” 

She opened fire with some very sweet and lauda- 
tory remarks about Athene. I have observed that 


OF 'fHE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 


141 


to be a common custom of persons seeking to pro- 
pitiate me, and I will confess frankly that this 
artifice always meets with a certain measure of 
success, for is there anything which can please one 
better than to hear and join in the praise of one 
whom we love ? She delivered the message with 
which Athene had charged her, and which was 
some kindly little injunction about my health and 
general well-being, and alluded to the dulness she 
was suffering in my absence. Athene had a kind 
little way of saying these things to people that they 
might come back to me and flatter my poor vanity, 
which had not, as a rule, much fuel to sustain it. 
Then came the piece of acting which I was con- 
fidently expecting. What a lovely spot this was, 
and what a pity it was that it should be spoiled by 
this horrid mania for gambling which seemed to 
possess everyone ! And then she remarked tenta- 
tively, 

“ You do not go into the rooms ! You were not 
there last night ! ” 

Yes,” I answered — “ I walked through them 
all. I went to look for you.” 

“ I did not see you,” she said quickly, and, I 
thought, with a shade of uneasiness. 

“ I was standing opposite you for some little 
time,” I remarked. 

Oh ! ” more uneasily. “Was I winning or 
losing ? ” 

“ Both. But when I left your luck had taken 
a turn for the better. How did you wind up ? ” 


142 


OF THE WOBLB, WOBLDLY, 


“I won,” she replied indifferently, as though 
lier gains were unworthy of consideration. “ I had 
no wish to play, but I was over-persuaded.” 

I preserved all through our conversation an ex- 
pression so childlike and bland that I defy her to 
have di'awn from my face the smallest augury as 
to whether I approved or disapproved of her doings. 
Whenever she directed a particularly searching 
glance towards me, I was absorbed in the contem- 
plation of sea or sky, and my voice was as discreet 
as my features. I hope, if anyone is disposed to 
condemn my mental attitude to this fair lady, that 
he will take into consideration the fact that I 
regarded her in the light of an enemy to the peace 
of mind of my greatest man friend, and feared her 
as one fears a well-equipped adversary on the look- 
out to foil one’s most dearly-cherished strata- 
gems. 

‘‘ Vivian would be shocked, would he not ? ” she 
went on, half-playfully. 

“ Oh, no — why should he ? ” I replied, with 
cheerful mendacity. 

“ At all events, do not tell him,” she continued 
coaxingly. “ I do not mean to play any more — it 
does not amuse me. One gets drawn into so many 
things one does not like ; ” and she gave one of her 
little regretful sighs which would have been so 
touching to anyone who believed in her. I do not. 
“ I was so angiy last night at dinner — it is such 
bad taste to make a noise in a public place and to 
attract everyone’s attention. It is such a pity Lady 


OF TUE WORLD, WORLDLY. 143 

Benet does it — she is really a very nice woman, 
and there is no harm in her.” 

Again she eyed me narrowly. I received her 
astounding assertion with serene complacency. She 
seemed a shade easier after this. Doubtless she 
thought I was not sufficiently what she called “ in 
the swim ” to be able to contradict her statement. 

“ I did not see Vivian after we made up our 
minds to come, but I sent him a line. I cannot 
tell you how glad I am that he and I are friends 
again. I owe that to you,” with a sweet smile. 

“ He is the best fellow in the world,” I remarked, 
being unable, with a shadow of conscientiousness, 
to express any pleasure at having been the means 
to this undesirable end. 

“ He has such a strong nature,” she went on. 
“ How one could lean on a man like that — one 
would never be in danger of going off the right 
track then.” 

“ Strong natures are apt to hold strong opinions,” 
I answered, “ and to assert them with a certain 
amount of peremptoriness. Now,” turning to look 
at her with the air of one who simply seeks infor- 
mation, “ do you not think, of the two, it is more 
convenient to have a husband who allows you to 
do precisely as you like and never interferes, than 
one who would expect a good deal of you, and 
would put a veto on many things which you regard 
as pleasant and,” I paused a moment, “ legitimate?” 

She answered, with some passion, 

“ I should like a husband who cared enough what 


144 OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 

I did to say, ‘ You shall do this and you shall not 
do that.’ ” 

“ It is a pretty theory,” I returned indifferently, 
not pretending to take the matter seriously, “ but 
I fancy husbands who say ‘ shall and shall not,’ 
get to be regarded with suspicion and dislike by 
their wives.” 

Mrs. Vernon’s heart was evidently more in the 
matter than mine, for she asked with some vehe- 
mence, 

“ Don’t you think there are times when it is a 
husband’s duty to say shall and shall not ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly,” I smiled. ‘‘ But ladies too have 
a very pretty talent sometimes for saying shall and 
shall not, and then when it comes to a passage of 
arms vm victis. I am rather a coward myself, and 
am inclined to advocate peace at any price.” 

“ Rather than peace with honour ? ” she asked 
significantly. 

“ Yes,” I replied unblushingly. 

For why should I bring out my finer thoughts 
and feelings for a woman, who, though she might 
talk sentimentally about ethics, contradicted them 
daily by her life, and, whatever she might pretend, 
cared only for her pleasure and amusement. No, 
to Athene I could pour out my heart by the hour, 
but not to the woman who sat beside me. To put 
the matter truly, if coarsely, she wanted to play at 
virtue because she was in love with Vivian, and 
saw that was the way most calculated to entrap 
him; had he been otherwise disposed, I think she 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


145 


would have found it easier and pleasanter besides. 
It is always uphill work, posing as the parent of a 
sentiment which is not born of one’s heart, but is 
an offspring of the brain, fledged to suit the caprice 
or convenience of the hour. What woman, even 
the most light of conduct, would not like her lover 
of the hour to be her lawful lord, whom she might 
love in the face of the whole world if — if she could 
ajDpoint a fresh consort to the post of honour when 
she tired of him ? It is always disagreeable to feel 
that one is doing wrong — for my own part I could 
never be brought to see that a thing was nice be- 
cause it was naughty — I should like to do what 
pleased me and to be applauded, and not condemned 
for doing it. 

I refused to allow Mrs. Vernon to draw me into 
a sympathetic conversation about her desire for 
simple and virtuous pleasures ; if she could leave 
the man who fulfilled the cravings of her heart to 
come to a place like this in company with (of 
course every one said charitably, as the guest of) a 
man who was as unlike him as pole from pole, 
whom he rightly objected in the strongest degree 
to her consorting with, how could she have any 
real affection for him, or any sincere wish to change 
her r6le? If she loved him well enough to say, 
“I love you and will follow you to the worlds 
end,” I could find it in my heart to respect her. 
But for a woman who wanted him and Helvellyn 
too I had neither respect nor sympathy. 

I could see plainly that Mi*s. Vernon was dis- 

10 


146 OF THE WOBLD, WOBLDLY, 

pleased by my refusing to take her seriously, but 
she had, no doubt, reasons for wishing not to 
quarrel with me ; she therefore gave another sigh, 
the sigh of 2i femme incomprise, and traced a pattern 
with her parasol in the gravel. 

“ I must not ask you for sympathy, I see,” she 
said. “ You will not realise even that I am in need 
of it.” ' 

“ Appearances I know are deceitful,” I replied, 
in a heartlessly cheerful tone. “ I see you an 
object of universal envy and admiration — how then 
can I pity you? It would be an impertinence.” 
And then I went on, with perfect seriousness, “ If 
I do not realise your need for sympathy, there is 
something that you too do not realise. You have 
the God-given gift of beauty — do not turn away, I 
am speaking in all seriousness, and without the 
smallest wish to flatter you, it is no merit on your 
part to be beautiful. But it is a thing you ought 
to thank God for on your knees every day. You 
have a talisman which works its charm upon every 
creature who beholds you — it is a passport to the 
love and favour of the whole world — you have but 
to smile and everyone is eager to help and serve 
you. Think with what- bitter longing must the 
plain and deformed regard you — nay, everyone who 
is not born with the gift of pleasing. How would 
some poor soul who craves for love be able to com- 
prehend your need of sympathy ? To inspire love 
is the most ardently desired boon in the world.” 

“ As far as I knoAV,” she returned petulantly. 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 147 

“ beauty has seldom brought liajjpiness to its pos- 
sessor or to those about her.” 

“ Not when the spell was used unworthily.” 

“ Ah,” she said, with some bitterness, “ I see I 
must not expect anything from you — you, at least, 
are invulnerable to the spell.” 

“ Indeed I am not,” I replied. “ I am thor- 
oughly conscious of the privilege I have enjoyed 
in spending the last half-hour in your company.” 

I did not intend to provoke her, but I was 
fully determined not to be won over to her side, 
lest I should be tempted to be disloyal to my 
friend. I was perfectly aware of her aim, and 
resolved to defeat it. 

Her brows were drawn together in a very de- 
termined frown, but presently she made an effort, 
smoothed them, and turned to me with a smile. 

‘‘ I have a favour to ask of you,” she said, in 
her most winning voice. “ If you will not under- 
stand me ; if you will not give me credit for 
being anything more than a butterfly without a 
heart, I cannot help it. Under the circumstances 
it is very bold of me to make a confidant of you, 
but I am going to do it all the same. Vivian’s 
friendship is very dear to me — I could hardly 
bear to lose it now. He, at all events, is not so 
harsh in his judgments as you — he believes in me 
a little. I know that he will not approve of my 
coming here, more particularly with these people. 
I do not want him to know about them, and I am 
afraid you will tell him.” 


148 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


She looked searchingly at me. 

“I shall certainly not volunteer the informa- 
tion,” I returned. 

“ But if he asks you — if he were to write to 
you ? ” 

I should think that quite improbable.” 

“ But if he does ? ” 

“ Well, my dear lady, I cannot really undertake 
to tell a lie on the subject.” 

She tapped her foot irritably — evidently my 
answer did not satisfy her. 

“ Forgive me if I am impertinent,” I said sud- 
denly, “but, if you mind so much what Vivian 
thinks, why did you come here ? ” 

“ I came because my husband insisted upon it,” 
she returned, almost defiantly. “ Lord Helvellyn 
invited us, and he had reasons for not wishing to 
disoblige him. I cannot tell you anything more.” 

I understood perfectly what she wished to con- 
vey. I was to believe that her husband owed 
money to Helvellyn, and did not want to offend 
him. If it was true it was not a pretty story, but 
I was by no means sure in my own mind that it 
was true. I had an idea that she used her hus- 
band freely as a scapegoat, but if tliis slur on him 
were false, she must indeed be a very unscrupu- 
lous person. 

“ I will not ask anything more,” I said, “ nor 
will T express an opinion. I am too wise to put 
my finger between the bark and the tree.” 

“ At all events,” she said, haiking back to her 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 149 

subject, “ you will not tell Vivian unless he asks 
you ? ” 

“ I will not.” 

“ And, if he does, you will make the best of it. 
Ah ! ” laying her hand on my arm and giving me 
a look that ought to have melted a man of mar- 
ble, “ will you not do this small thing for me ? ” 

I promised. When the interview was over, I 
felt a disagreeable consciousness of having been 
“ bested.” I had been rather gloating over the 
use I should make of this visit of the lady to 
Monte Carlo as a corrective to Vivian’s sympathy, 
and behold ! without my knowing quite how it 
came about, she had wheedled the weapon out of 
my hand. Eve and the serpent combined in this 
lovely form had been too many for me. After 
this Mrs. Vernon was very bright and smiling, 
and I drew what poor consolation I could from 
the reflection that she must certainly believe me 
to be a man of my word, or she would not be so 
triumphant at having extracted that unlucky 
promise from me. ^ 


150 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


CHAPTER XL 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

I AM not suspicious by nature — when I trust, I 
trust with all my heart, — but, as I have already 
hinted, I did not believe in Mrs. Vernon. I had 
the opportunity of testing the truth of one of her 
assertions, and I intended to avail myself of it. 
She had declared that she did not care for the 
tables, and would not play any more. Without 
turning myself into a spy, a rdle extremely dis- 
tasteful to me, I knew I could very easily discover 
whether she adhered to her expressed intention. 
I looked in at the rooms now and again, and found 
that she was a constant visitor, sometimes watch- 
ing Helvellyn, but frequently playing herself. 
When she did, he was always at her elbow. She 
did not play very high — if she lost twenty pounds, 
she would go away. I never saw any reckless 
playing on her part. Still I think whoever paid 
for her amusement must have found it rather 
unprofitable. One morning, some days after our 
conversation in the grounds, I went into the end 
room to look for a man whom I had agreed to 
lunch with. He was playing, and I waited for a 
minute to speak to him. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 161 

Mrs. Vernon and Lord Helvellyn were there 
also, and I remarked that he wore a very sulky 
expression. I was standing near, because my 
friend was next to them at the table, and I heard 
Helvellyn say to her, with a manner and tone 
more familiar than courteous, 

“ What’s the good of going on ? You’re out of 
luck to-day.” 

She persisted, and then I heard him growl, 

“ I don’t see the fun of chucking money into 
the gutter like this.” 

She turned from the table with a flaming face, 
brushed by me without being aware of my pres- 
ence, and hurried from the room, sulkily followed 
at a little distance by his lordship. 

“ Ah, my lady,” I reflected, “ it is not all cakes 
and ale having this young cub for an admirer. 
Well, I do not pity you in the very least.” 

That evening I had dined rather early, to suit 
the convenience of a friend, and was just leaving 
the dining-room when Lord Helvellyn’s party 
entered. I went to my room, read over again a 
letter I had received that day from Athene, and 
taking my hat was on my way downstairs. Al- 
most on the last stair I met Mrs. Vernon. She 
was alone and wore a flushed, angry look. Seeing 
me she stopped. 

“ Where are you going ? ” she asked. 

“ To listen to the music,” I replied. 

“ Wait until I get my hat, and let me go with 
you,” she commanded. 


162 OF THE WOBLD, WOliLDLY. 

“ But you have not dined,” I remonstrated. 

“I have had quite enough,” she answered. 
“ Do you not want me ? ” 

“ Indeed I do, very much,” I hastened to say 
politely. “ I will wait for you at the entrance.” 

It was not five minutes before she joined me, 
still with a perturbed and angry expression of face. 

‘‘ That man is insufferable ! ” she exclaimed, as 
soon as we were out of earshot. “ I wish from the 
bottom of my heart I had never come to this odious 
place. I shall get back home as soon as possible.” 

“ I am rather tired of it too,” I observed, taking 
no notice of the first part of her remark ; for I have 
generally found that the best way of obtaining 
confidences is to seem not to invite them. “ It is 
•a life that soon palls upon one — indeed, if it were 
not for the music I should be bored to death.” 

It was soon manifest that I was to be made 
acquainted with her grievances. 

It was impossible for me to sit at the table and 
hear him rate the waiters, with everyone in the 
room turning to look and listen, so I came away. 
As for the others,” contemptuously, “ they seem 
to consider it good fun. And as for Lady Benet, 
I thought her rather a nice woman, but I have 
changed my mind. Her behaviour in public is 
disgraceful ; no wonder people talk about her.” 

Mrs. Vernon was evidently very angry. She 
did not spare a single member of her party — cer- 
tainly not her husband ; but the chief object of her 
animus was undoubtedly Helvellyii. Putting two 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 153 

and two together, I thought the affront he had 
offered her in the morning had caused her to view 
his behaviour at dinner with less leniency than 
usual — ^the old proverb about familiarity and con- 
tempt was no doubt in force at this moment. “ So 
much the better,” I said to myself, “ it is always 
as well to see tlie reverse of the medallion, and if 
she and Helvellyn fell out, it would be in one sense 
the best thing that could happen to her.” When 
she had given full reins to her displeasure she be- 
came calmer, and the music also helped to smooth 
her ruffled plumes. Glancing at her as the violins 
were wailing a lovely plaint which made one think 
of souls in anguish, I saw tears well in her eyes 
and roll down her cheeks. I thought better of her 
for this sign of feeling, but tears, a woman’s tears, 
flow for so many causes — anger and wounded pride 
as much as from softer emotions. 

As we were walking back to the hotel, Helvellyn 
joined us. He came swaggering up, but was evi- 
dently not altogether at his ease. 

“ I hope you are better,” he said, half jocularly, 
half wishing to propitiate her. 

She deigned no reply. 

“ What’s the matter ? What have I done ? ” 

No reply. 

“ I say, Courtland,” appealing to me, “ I should 
like just to put the case to you. If you give a 
waiter most particular orders about your dinner 
and your wine, and he don’t attend to them, isn’t 
a fellow justified in pitching in to him ? ” 


154 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


‘‘ Very likely,” I replied indifferently. 

‘‘ Well, that’s all I did ; and then Mrs. Vernon 
gets up in a huff and walks out of the room in the 
middle of dinner. Don’t you call that rough on 
me ? ” 

“ As I was not present,” I returned, “ I am afraid 
I am not in a position to give an opinion.” 

Getting no satisfaction out of me, he turned 
again to her. 

“ You must he awfully hungry, Mrs. Vernon. 
Come and have some supper, do, won’t you ? ” 

“ No, thank you,” she returned icily. “ I feel 
as though I never wish to enter that room again.” 

“ Well, there are lots of other places. Come 
somewhere, anywhere. I’ll order all your favourite 
things. Come, make it up. What’s the good of 
being angry and spoiling all one’s fun ? ” 

“ Fun ? ” she repeated scornfully. I fancy she 
was not sorry to have the opportunity of showing 
me how cavalierly she could treat him. ‘‘ I do 
not know what you call fun. I think the place is 
detestable, and I am very sorry I came. However, 
as I shall go back to England the day after to- 
morrow, it does not much matter.” 

“ I don’t think you’ll get Vernon away in such 
a hurry,” remarked Helvell}^! sulkily. 

‘‘ Then I shall go alone,” she returned, in a 
determined voice. 

“ Oh, all right ! ” and he turned away and left 
us. 

We were nearing the hotel, and I made some 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


155 


irrelevant observation to give her time to recover 
her composure, wliich was evidently extremely 
disturbed. 

In the hall I wished her good-night, and she 
forced a smile, and thanked me for having been 
her escort. I rather wondered what the upshot of 
this lover’s quarrel would be, but did not for a 
moment suppose that it would end in the carrying 
out by Mrs. Vernon of her tlrreat. 

The following morning was glorious, and I 
directed my steps after breakfast to a favourite 
spot in the grounds. As I approached I saw that 
the seat I was making for was already occupied, 
and I recognised in the person who had stolen a 
march on me a certain Lady Hilldown of my 
acquaintance. She was rather dreaded by some 
for the caustic power of her tongue, but she had 
a considerable fund of wit and humour, and we 
had always been good friends, as she reserved her 
severity for those who annoyed or offended her, 
and so far I had not transgressed. I should have 
passed with a salutation, but she called me. 

‘‘ Come here, Mr. Courtland. Have you half 
an hour to spare for an old woman ? ” 

“ Yes,” I replied smiling. “ Where can I find 
her?” 

“ Ah ! ” she laughed, “ that is very civil. She 
is here before you, and she has no illusions about 
herself — certainly none about her age. I was 
fifty-eight last month, my dear Mr. Courtland, and 
I look every day of it. There is no merit either 


156 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY, 


in my confession, as the unchivalrous ‘ Lodge ’ 
proclaims it in his pages that he who runs may 
^ad. But what does it matter ? ‘ To this favour 

jhius^i" we all come,’ if we live long enough ; and 
|^of )vhat importance is a woman’s age unless you 
want to make love to her ? I flatter myself that 
I am very much better company than nine young 
f/women out of ten — if one must be an old woman, 
it is a great thing not to be a dull old woman.” 

endorse every word your ladyship has 
uttered,” I replied. 

What sort of temper are you in ? ” she asked. 
‘^Do you feel well-disposed to all mankind, or 
wbuld a nice spicy little bit of scandal have an 
agreeable effect on your nerves ? ” 

' ' “ A most agreeable effect,” I replied, responding 
io her humour. “ My liver is not all I could wish, 
and at these times nothing is so stimulating as the 
censure of one’s fellow-man and the contempl^ion 
of his shortcomings.” 

“ Come and sit beside me, and we will eniby our- 
selves thoroughly. My bit of scandal concerns a 
friend of yours — let us pick her to pieces together. 
It is Mrs. Vernom” 7 

“ Ah ! ” I remarked, preparing mys^f to listen. 
Is it something quite, quite new ? ’/ 

‘‘ Brand new. She has quarreled with her 
^qse.” 

“ H^^goose ? ” I repeated, for I was not sure she 
did not m“S»n,Captai|^ “ Which goose ? ” 

“ Why, the goose that lays the golden eggs, to be 


OF TEE WOELD, WORLDLY. 157 

sure — my connection, or rather relation, as his 
mother and I were first cousins — Helvellyn/’ 

I waited in attentive silence. 

“ He takes after her exactly,” proceeded Lady 
Hilldown ; “ she was a most selfish, disagreeable, 
ill-mannered woman. I never could imagine how 
the poor Duke put up with her in the way he did 
— certainly he got away from her as much as he 
could. However, this is not my bit of news. I 
acquired my information in the most delightful 
back-stairs manner — servants listening at the key- 
hole, and that sort of thing. My maid came to 
call me in an excited frame of mind. There was 
a time when I despised servants’-hall gossip and 
the people who listened to it, but now my ears are 
at the disposal of anyone who will amuse: me., and 
the gossip of my Abigail, who is very spiteful aifd 
not very young, is a source of the greatest interest ; . 
to me.” T' 

I smiled at the candour of my interlocutor. I 
took what she said with several grains of salt, as I 
Avas aware she enjoyed saying the things that ordi- / 
nary people would most carefully abstain from " 
saying. 

“ I knew at once,” she proceeded, “ that she had 
learned something to the disadvantage of somebody, ^ 
so I gave her the cue she wanted, and she was off 
at once. It seems that, having got rid of me for 
the niglit, she went to hold a palaver With one of 
her own kind, who happened to belong to the 
family whose sitting-room adjoined Mrs. Vernon’s. 


158 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

The family had also retired early, and the two 
maids met in this room to pick their ladies to pieces, 
and tear and rend everybody in general, after their 
amiable custom. I hiwve not the smallest doubt in 
my mind that they were on the watch, though of 
course Sharp told me the story as though every- 
thing happened by the purest accident. ‘ As we 
were there,’ she said, ‘in came Mrs. Vernon and 
Lord Helvellyn, and they talked so loud we 
couldn’t be off hearing what they said. And lor’, 
my lady, who would ever have thought that such 
an angelic-looking lady could have such a temper I 
Well, she did go on, to be sure and she regularly 
screamed at him, and said she wouldn’t put up 
with him any longer, and that she would go right 
off home. And his lordship lost his temper, and 
said her husband knew a trick worth two of that, 
and she ordered him to leave the room, and his 
lordship said he shouldn’t, and it was his room ; 
and then she called him all manner of names,’ (I 
did not elicit what,) ‘ and it ended by her flinging 
out of the room and slamming the door. So un- 
ladylike,’ Miss Sharp commented ; ‘ but there, she 
had heard that Mrs. Vernon had not been anybody 
very particular, so perhaps it was not to be won- 
dered at.’ That is my little bit of scandal, and 
pray, Mr. Courtland, what do you think of it ? ” 

“ The quarrels of lovers are the renewing of 
love,” I remarked promptly. “ Will you embark 
on a little wager with me that we shall not pres- 
ently see them apparently on the best of terms ? ” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 159 

“No, I will not bet on wliat, I suppose, is a cer- 
tainty. You are a very astute young man, and 
your deductions, I have remarked, are generally 
correct. But tell me, what do you think of Mrs. 
Vernon? I imagine you know her pretty well, as 
I have seen you several times in her company.” 

“ I have given up sitting in judgment on my 
fellows,” I replied. “ Until one is placed in the 
circumstances of the person on whom one is called to 
deliver a verdict, one is really not in a position to 
give a just one. I like the French proverb, ‘ To 
understand all is to forgive all,’ and I think,” 
smiling, “ if I were a beautiful young woman, I 
should do all manner of things which, under my 
present conditions, I am not at all tempted to 
do.” 

“ You are a fraud,” said her ladyship good- 
humouredly. “ I called you to curse, and behold 
you bless. I believe your liver must be in the 
best possible order, after the expression of such an 
amicable ^entiment. But,” speaking seriously, “ I 
agree with it in the main, for although it amuses 
me to listen to gossip and to disseminate it upon 
occasion, as I have done this morning, I am in my 
secret heart fairly tolerant of the weakness of my 
kind. And that is not from any amiability of dis- 
position, but is the result of great experience and 
some thought. When one no longer believes in 
oneself, in whom can one believe ? ” 

“ And do you not believe in yourself ? ” I in- 
quired, surprised, for I had imagined that no one 


160 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

was on better terms with herself than Lady Hill- 
down. 

“ Alas, no ; but this is a profound secret between 
you and me.” 

She spoke half-jestingly, but I detected real 
earnestness underlying her airy manner. 

“ I am a very worldly old woman now.” 



OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLT. 


161 


must insist upon salvation and damnation, or how 
can he get a hold on his flock? If the trumpet 
gives an uncertain sound, who is to go forth to 
battle?” 

“To proceed with my biography,” continued 
Lady Hilldown. “ By the way, I hope it interests 
you?” 

“ Amazingly.” 

“ Well, as I said, when I was young I believed 
in everything, and, now I am old, I believe in 
nothing. How my beliefs slipped away one by one, 
I hardly know — I remember that I suffered a good 
deal in getting rid of some of them, but my mind 
is an immense deal more comfortable now they are 
gone. It is a mercy one cannot look into the 
future ; could I as a girl have foreseen what would 
then have appeared to me my awful condition at 
the present moment, I suppose the horror would 
have killed me. And now, I do not care, and I am 
very thankful that I do not. Someone said to me 
the other day, ‘ Ah ! but if you were on your death- 
bed you would care.’ But two years ago I was on 
what I and everyone else thought was my death- 
bed, and I was not afraid. I did not quite like the 
thought of dying, any more than I should like the 
idea of being put on board ship to-night, bound fol* 
a distant and unknown port, with the knowledge 
that I should never again see friends or country. 
I had the sort of feeling that I was a helpless unit 
in the grasp of a great unknown power, and that 
in any case I was in the same boat with millions 
11 


162 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


of others. Once, when I was quite young, 1 was 
also supposed to be in extremis,, and then I was 
terrified. I can recall most vividly my fear, and 
my remorse on the subject of a smart blue silk 
petticoat which I had lately bought. My remorse 
was that I had spent the money it cost on myself 
instead of on the poor. I was as good and virtuous 
as any young woman need be in those days, and 
yet I was horribly afraid to die, — doctors have fre- 
quently told me that religious people fear death 
more than others. You know, Mr. Courtland, 
this is the age of free-thought, and a man or woman 
is not considered a pariah now because he is a non- 
believer ; but in my young days the name atheist 
was a brand of the most awful character, the man 
who bore this stigma was credited with the capacity 
for every vice and crime under heaven. No one 
would have believed for an instant that he could 
be a good husband and father and a worthy member 
of society. If a man did not believe, unless he was 
exceptionally strong-minded, he took very good 
care to keep his doubts to himself.” 

“ Do you know,” I observed, “ that I sometimes 
rather regret the tolerant spirit of the day. I am 
not sure that compulsory belief is not better than 
no belief, there have even been times when I have 
regretted that I was not born a Catholic.” 

“I think,” replied Lady Hilldown, “that it would 
be an excellent thing if there was only one faith in 
the world, which everyone b^ieved as a matter of 
course and without compulsion, just as you accept 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


163 


unquestioningly, the fact that the sun will rise to- 
morrow whether we see it or no. There would 
then be hard and fast rules about right and wrong, 
and they would not then be convertible terms, as 
they are now.” 

“ Oh ! ” I said, raising my eyebrows, “ are you a 
supporter of that dangerous doctrine ? ” 

“ I fought it tooth and nail for a long time,” she 
answered, “ but I am obliged now to admit that 
there is a good deal in it. When you look around 
and see how utterly at variance are the ideas of 
different nations about good and evil, you are, 
however reluctantly, compelled to admit that there 
is some truth in the obnoxious doctrine. One man 
is doing what he conscientiously believes to be right 
when he is committing what, in the eyes of another, 
is a positive crime — as, for instance, when he is per- 
forming what he considers to be an act of the 
highest devotion in bowing down before the graven 
image of his saint or god, he is guilty of an act of 
foul idolatry in the eyes of men of a different per- 
suasion. I need not remind you that in some 
countries a man has a right to as many wives as he 
can maintain, when with us, if he has more than 
one, the law will lay hold of him ; and whereas 
the man after God’s own heart and his wise son 
had, it may be supposed with divine consent, in- 
numerable wives and handmaids, if a man of our 
time and religion lifts his eyes to a woman other 
than his lawful wife, he is condemned by our faith 
to have his portion with other evil-doers in the lake 


164 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

that burns forever. I made this suggestion once 
to a religious friend, and she replied, ‘ But, my 
dear, we live under a different dispensation now.’ 
‘ And yet,’ I returned, ‘ in God there is no change 
or shadow of turning, and a thousand years are to 
him as one day, and one day as a thousand years. 
Are we to suppose that the Being of infinite know- 
ledge and illimitable power is compelled to march 
with the times, and condemns to-day what He per- 
mitted yesterday, and vice-versa? ’ The fact is, my 
dear Mr. Courtland, man in all times has made laws 
according to his own ideas of convenience or the 
fitness of things, and, not satisfied with the weight 
of his own authority, has thought it expedient to 
give them the seal of divine command. As for the 
laws relating to the virtue of women, the difference 
of opinion of different ages and nations on this 
point is too ludicrous. I commend to your notice 
a book on marriage customs prevailing amongst 
different races. Propriety forbids me to enter into 
details, but the study is very curious, not to say 
instructive, and can one suppose that a woman 
who, according to the lawful custom of her country, 
has half-a-dozen husbands or a dozen lovers, may 
be doing perfectly right in the sight of God, whilst 
He dooms to eternal perdition a woman of our 
faith who perhaps under sore stress and temptation 
has loved ‘ not wisely but too well ’ ? I remember 
being amused by the extreme laxity of the marriage 
code in one particular race where the lady was the 
property of her legitimate lord for tlu'ee consecu- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


165 


tive days, but on every fourth day was permitted 
to give free rein to her fancy. We know how 
jealously a man of honour amongst ourselves is 
supposed to guard the virtue of his wife, and yet I 
need not remind you how in old Egypt, politeness 
and good feeling made it customary for a man to 
abrogate his claims in favour of his friends. I have 
really come to the conclusion that the only stand- 
ard of right and wrong by which we can direct our 
actions is our own conscience, and that, as we 
know, is simply formed by the habits, customs, 
and ideas of the people who brought us up. I 
believe that if we think we are doing wrong we 
are doing wrong, and in the same respect to right.” 

“ It is extremely perplexing,” I remarked, 
“ still I suppose there is one thing about which all 
races and nations must be agreed, that it is right 
to be kind and well-disposed towards our fellow- 
men.” 

“ But not at all,” answered her ladyship, with 
vivacity. “ The most sacred duty of the Red 
Indian is revenge. To forgive his enemy is with 
him as dastardly a piece of cowardice as his mind 
is capable of conceiving — his remorse were he ever 
to commit it would be equal to that of a man of 
our race who had butchered an adversary in cold 
blood. No — it is all a great inexplicable puzzle, 
and although it is interesting to discuss it once 
now and then, one never gets any further. I am 
quite persuaded that good is good for its own sake 
— good as I know it, and with that conviction I 
rest content.” 


166 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER XII. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

‘‘ ‘ Amantium ib^,’ ” exclaimed Lady Hilldown, 
with startling irrelevancy ; and following her glance 
I beheld Lord Helvellyn and Mrs. Vernon a few 
yards distant, walking side by side and apparently 
on the most friendly terms. On seeing us they 
turned off into another path and were soon lost to 
sight. 

‘‘Ah!” I said, “ nuit porte conseil! Well, 
better so, the lady is at all events wise in her 
generation.” 

“ I can imagine nothing so unpleasant,” re- 
marked her ladyship, “ as to be obliged to pretend 
friendliness towards a man whom you loathe and 
despise. And such are the sentiments, I imagine, 
Mrs. Vernon must entertain towards my hopeful 
cousin. Then I always had a fine independent 
spirit of my own, and would rather have lived on 
a crust than have taken money from a man. I 
really don’t see any difference between a woman 
like Mrs. Vernon and Coralie Bellejambe of the 
Gaiety.” 

“ Do you not ! ” I said, with emphasis. “ I see 
a vast difference.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 167 

“ Ah ! ” laughed Lady Hilldown, “ I understand 
— there is an excuse for the one and not for the 
other. To what a pass may vanity bring a woman. 
Do you suppose that in her secret heart Mrs. 
Vernon is ashamed of and despises herself?” 

“ Not at all,” I replied. “ I have no doubt that 
she considers herself the personification of injured 
innocence against whom fate, circumstances, and 
the world have cruelly combined.” 

^Well!” said Lady Hilldown rising, “ I must 
go. I have to thank you for a very pleasant hour. 
Come and dine with me to-night.” 

I accepted, and having escorted her to the gates 
took leave of her and turned my steps to the 
terrace. Mrs. Vernon was sitting there alone and 
beckoned to me. She greeted me with her most 
charming smile, her manner was deprecatory. 

“ I wanted to speak to you,” she began. “ You 
must please forget everything I said last night ; 
the fact is, I was not well, and I am afraid I was 
rather irritable or I should not have allowed my- 
self to be put out by a trifle. I was very hard, I 
fear, on Lord Helvellyn, who is really most kind 
and good-natured, but we have made it up and it 
is all right.” 

“ All’s well that ends well,” I remarked, with a 
blank expression of countenance. 

She glanced sharply at me as if anxious to read 
my thoughts, but my face was as expressionless as 
a mask. After a moment she withdrew her eyes, 
and said playfully, 


168 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ I saw you carrying on a desperate flirtation 
just now with Lady Hilldown, so I discreetly 
turned away.” 

“ You are always kind and thoughtful,” I an- 
swered. 

‘‘Tell me, what sort of woman is she? Very 
clever, I have heard, and rather a mauvaise langue. 
I am a little afraid of her.” 

“ She is excellent company.” 

“ What were you talking of — things or people ? 
Did she say anything about me ? ” 

“We were discussing good and evil, right and 
wrong, illusions and disillusions.” 

“ How interesting I I should have liked to be a 
listener.” 

I reflected to myself that she would in that 
case have shared the fate of the proverbial listener. 

“ I should very much like to know her,” con- 
tinued Mrs. Vernon. “ I told Helvellyn so — she 
is a relation of his, but he is afraid of her, says 
she is an old cat and that I had better keep out of 
reach of her claws.” 

“ I cannot admit the justice of his graceful com- 
parison,” I returned ; “ perhaps she has rather a 
caustic humour, but that is part of her charm.” 

“ Oh, I see you are great friends,” smiled Mrs. 
Vernon. “ Did she say anything about me ? ” 

So direct a question was not very easy to parry. 

“ Everyone says something about you,” I replied, 
with an evasive smile. “ That is the penalty cel- 
ebrity has to pay.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


169 


“ But tell me,” she asked coaxingly, “ what did 
she say ? Did she say anything about me and — 
and Helvellyn ? ” 

“ My dear lady,” I returned, “ do you suppose 
I repeat to one fair friend what another says about 
her? Do you think I shall tell Lady Hilldown 
that I heard from you the very unflattering opinion 
which her relative expressed about her ? ” 

“ Ah ! ” she retorted quickly, “ that means that 
she did say something about me you would not 
like to repeat? ” 

“ Did I not tell you,” I answered, “ that our 
conversation ranged over wider fields than per- 
sonal gossip.” 

I was by no means ill-pleased that, at this mo- 
ment, Helvellyn should join us. He greeted me 
with a cordiality that was almost boisterous, and 
his manner to her was quite that of the lover whose 
love is renewed. I could see that it somewhat dis- 
composed her, but that was probably only because 
I was witness of it. I soon left them to their new 
state of amity, and went off to write to Athene. 

In the evening I dined with Lady Hilldown as 
proposed. We had a very pleasant party of four 
— my hostess was in her best and liveliest vein, and 
was well supported by two other guests, whom she 
had evidently selected for their congenial proclivi- 
ties. Later on her ladyship, who was in high good- 
humour, desired me to escort her to the rooms. 

“ I do not play myself,” she said, “ I think it 
unfeminine, and, as a rule, it does not amuse me 


170 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


to look on ; but to-night I have a fancy to see how 
my numerous friends comport themselves under 
tlie influence of the gambling demon.” 

So we strolled in and walked round the various 
tables, and she made a running and very amusing 
commentary in a low voice. Presently she gave 
a little tap to my arm, and, following her glance, I 
saw Mrs. Vernon seated at a table not far off. 

“ Do not let her see us,” I whispered, and we 
stationed ourselves where we could observe her 
without attracting her notice. 

I secretly wondered if she was aware that her 
next neighbour was a notorious demi-mondaine, and 
whether, if she had known it, she would have given 
up her place. On her other side was a disrepu- 
table, not over-clean. Frenchman. Helvellyn stood 
behind her. To-night she was evidently in luck ; 
if slie put her money on red, red turned up — if on 
black she was equally fortunate. The pile of gold 
beside her was assuming considerable proportions, 
and attracted the covetous gaze of some of the 
spectators. A crowd was gradually gathering, and 
players began to back her luck. Bright red spots 
glowed on her cheeks, her eyes glittered, and she 
spoke and laughed in louder accents than was her 
wont — the demoralising effect of her occupation 
was painfully visible. The excitement of love, 
even of anger, often heightens beauty, but there is 
no charm in the expression that the excitement of 
gambling gives, — there is nothing to fascinate in 
eyes which express cupidity and the lust of gain. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


171 


“ Good heavens ! ” I said to myself, whilst a feel- 
ing of aversion crept over me, “ if Vivian could 
see her now ! ” 

She looked no nearer to the type of what a 
woman should be than the declassee beside her. 

For a time she carried everything before her, and 
the crowd increased and whispered and stared — 
the bright spots deepened in her face and the glit- 
ter of her eyes became harder and more eager. I 
saw the woman next her address a congratulation 
to her in a friendly, familiar sort of way ; and she 
replied smilingly, ignorant of, or indifferent to the 
supposed gulf between them. Helvellyn could not 
restrain his jubilance. 

“ Come away,” whispered Lady Hilldown. “ Poor 
woman ! I am sorry for her.” 

She spoke with perfect sincerity. As we went 
out, she said, 

“ If I were a man, however much I loved and 
admired a woman, I think my feelings would suf- 
fer a very serious change if I saw her under such 
circumstances. Helvellyn has no fine feelings to 
be shocked. Where is her degraded husband ? I 
do not even know him by sight, but he must be a 
degraded wretch.” 

“ He is there,” I whispered, indicating a table 
that we were just passing — “ exactly opposite the 
croupier.” 

Lady Hilldown paused to look at him. 

“ Appearances are deceitful,” she remarked, 
after favouring him with a long and searching 


172 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

scrutiny of which he was entirely unconscious. 
“ He looks like a quiet, respectable English gentle- 
man. What is he really ? Does he not know or 
will he not know ? ” 

“ My acquaintance with him is of the smallest,” 
I replied ; “ but I take him to be a man who likes 
his own ease and comfort, and whose motto is ‘ lais- 
sezfaire.’’ ” 

“I suppose,” she said, “when a man no longer 
loves a woman, he may become indifferent to what 
she does.” 

“ In any case,” I replied, “ Vernon does not lay 
himself open to the charge of being a dog in the 
manger.” 

“It is all very puzzling,” she said; “ and as for 
the face being an index to the character, I for one 
don’t believe it. Captain Vernon’s face attracts 
me — he looks like a good fellow.” 

“ Perhaps he is. But what is a good fellow ? ” 

Lady Hilldown smiled. 

“ It is too late for any more speculations to- 
night. See me home to the hotel, and I will not 
call your good-fellowship in question for a mo- 
ment. I have had quite a pleasant evening, and 
you must dine with me again.” 

“ I shall venture,” I observed, “ to ask you to 
change rSles with me, and to allow me to entertain 
you ! ” 

“ With all my heart,” she replied ; and we 
parted on the friendliest of terms. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 173 

I went for a stroll on the terrace, where I met 
Mrs. Vernon. 

“ How did you finish ? ” I inquired. “ You 
were quite en veine when I saw you last.” 

‘‘ My luck turned,” she answered, “ or I should 
be there still. But,” with great glee, “ I brought 
away over four hundred louis. I want to pack up 
to-night and go to-morrow before I have a chance 
of losing them again.” 

“ The very wisest thing you could do,” I re- 
marked. 

“ Rot ! ” interposed his lordship. “ Stop and 
break the bank, I say.” 

“ Or you,” I reflected ; but aloud I said, ad- 
dressing Mrs. Vernon, “ And how do you like the 
sensation of winning ? ” 

“ Immensely ! ” she answered, with great em- 
phasis. “ I don’t think I ever felt so excited in 
my life. I believe I should become a regular 
gambler. Are you not shocked ? ” 

“ I ! ” I repeated blandly. “ I am never shocked. 
I do not know the sensation.” 

“ You’re a wise chap ! ” remarked Helvellyn. 
“ What the deuce is the good of being shocked ? 
Let everyone be happy in his own way, I say, and, 
if a thing amuses me, what’s the odds to you ? ” 

“ Exactly,” I replied. 

He took me quite seriously, but Mrs. Vernon 
gave me a quick look askance, and it occurred to 
me to wonder if she still wished me not to tell 
Vivian of her doings, or if she no longer occupied 


174 OF THE WOBLB, WOBLDLY. 

herself with the thought of him. We walked 
hack to the hotel and upstairs together, and I bade 
tliem good-night at the door of her (or his ?) sit- 
ting-room, declining an invitation to go in and 
liave a brandy and soda. I wondered if Miss 
Sharp^ was awaiting further developments in the 
adjoining apartment. 

The following morning I had a letter from 
Athene. After telling me various items of news, 
and referring to other matters which I had men- 
tioned in writing, she proceeded : 

“I had another visit from Vivian yesterday. 
Poor boy, I fear he is very uneasy in his mind. I 
am sure that he came to me in the hope of elicit- 
ing news about Mrs. Vernon, knowing as he does 
how regularly you and I correspond. He would 
not allow the conversation to wander very far 
from you, and, though I am aware how great his 
regard for you is, I cannot help fancying that 
your being under the same canopy of sky as that 
syren gave you a ‘ dearness not your due.’ You 
know, Anthony, how I hate telling people dis- 
agreeable things — things that they will not like 
to hear. I never could understand that common 
weakness of poor humanity, for inflicting little 
stabs on its fellow victims. I suppose this reluc- 
tance on my part to give pain proceeds not so 
much from a humane instinct as from the organ 
of love of approbation, which phrenologists have 
asserted is strongly developed in me. I like to be 
liked, and that end is certainly not to be gained by 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY. 175 

wounding the amour propre or the affections of 
those with whom we come in contact. I suppose 
tliis view of the question does not occur to persons 
who indulge in the habit of making disagreeable 
remarks ; they do not realise what a cheap and easy 
popularity they may win by cultivating the more 
amiable side of their natures, and by saying pleas- 
ant instead of unpleasant things. I believe it is 
often only a bad habit, and does not arise from 
positive ill-nature. I have known people bring up 
one after another the name of their interlocutor’s 
greatest friends, with the express purpose of say- 
ing sometliing depreciatory of each, and the only 
result they attained was to bring dislike and ill- 
feeling upon their own heads. To return to 
Vivian. He asked a hundred questions about you, 
your health, your pursuits, your friends and ac- 
quaintances at Monte Carlo, and as I persistently 
abstained from all mention of Mrs. Vernon he at 
last, poor fellow, could keep silence no longer, 
and enquired if you saw much of her. I replied 
airily that you met her occasionally, and then, 
unlucky day ! he asked with obvious nervousness 
and hesitation if she played at the tables. It is 
not that I mind his knowing (we do not wish him 
to think well of her, do we ?) but I am fond of 
him and I hate to be his executioner. Sheer 
cowardice, but so it is ! As I could not tell an 
absolute falsehood, I said evasively that I supposed 
everyone who went to Monte Carlo tried his luck, 
and that I imagined myself to be the only woman 


176 OF THE WORLD, WORXDLY. 

on record who had ever been in the rooms without 
staking so much as a five-franc piece. Then he 
could contain himself no longer. 

“ ‘ It is dreadful,’ he cried, ‘ to think of a 
woman who has really a charming nature and so 
much good at heart being dragged into such a life 
as she leads. What sort of stuff can a man like 
V ernon be made of ? A man I he is not a man at 
all. I had a letter from a friend of mine out there, 
and he says — stay ! I will read you his letter — 
he is not playing the part of the good-natured 
friend, for he is not even aware that I know her.” 

“ Vivian took a letter from his pocket and read 
me what follows, as near as I can remember : 

‘‘ ‘ The party that excites the most attention here 
next to the above ’ (I do not know to whom this 
referred) ‘ is that of the professional beauty ’ (I 
saw him wince as he uttered the words) ‘ Mrs. 
Vernon, her husband. Lord Helvellyn, LadyBenet, 
and Fairbank, the last madder and noisier than ever. 
You remember what a lunatic he was at Eton. 
There is no doubt Mrs. Vernon is a lovely woman, 
but that does not make the world more indulgent 
to her, especially her own sex. She and Helvellyn 
are always about together — both play a good deal 
— though the constant presence of the husband 
makes her position just tenable, he has so thoroughly 
earned for himself the degrading cognomen of mari 
complaisant as to be no real protection to her good 
name.’ Poor Vivian shut up the letter, and looked 
at me with despairing eyes. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


177 


“ ‘ Oh, Athene ! ’ he said, ‘ I am sure she does 
not realise what she is doing. Do not laugh at me 
for still believing in her. I think she has a weak 
and pleasure-loving nature, but I do not, I will not 
believe there is any harm in her. This brute ’ 
(Vernon, I suppose,) ‘ does not care what is 
thought or said of her as long as someone will 
pay for his amusement, and she detests strife and 
quarrelling, and gives in to him just for the sake 
of a quiet life. I had a letter from her the day be- 
fore yesterday, and she told me that she hated the 
place and the life, and was longing to get back to 
her children.’ Oh, Anthony ! are men weak when 
they are in love, and blind, and helpless, and foolish, 
and credulous, and everything else that a woman 
chooses to make them ? Will they not dance to 
any tune the lady chooses to pipe ? I daresay, if 
the truth were known, Delilah did not cut off Sam- 
son’s hair whilst he slept, but handed him the 
scissors, and said, ‘ Shear those splendid locks, 
dearest, to please me,’ and he obeyed. There is 
nothing comparable to the softness of a man when 
he loves a woman, except his hardness when he has 
grown tired of her. Don’t cry out at me ! you know 
it is true — is it not written with the heart’s blood of 
thousands of forsaken women ? 

“ And then, in the most moving accents, Vivian 
entreated me on her return to see Mrs. Vernon, to 
act the part of candid friend, to tell her what people 
said and thought — to argue, remonstrate, implore, 
j)ersuade, to do everything that a woman can do to 


178 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

help a weaker sister. W as ever such an infatuation. 
And Vivian of all men, whose one weak point we 
always thought to be a proneness to harsh judg- 
ments. Why, do you not remember the things he 
said to you about her not so very long ago ? — there 
was no film over his eyes then to blind the clear- 
ness of his perceptions — he took refuge in no euphem- 
isms then. And what did I reply ? you wonder. I 
daresay you can guess — knowing my weakness, I 
do not wish to spare myself ; it is a mixture of 
cowardice and vanity that makes me what people 
are kind enough to call sympathetic. How can one 
turn a deaf ear to prayers and entreaties, most of 
all when they come from the lips of a friend ? I 
believe if I had done my duty I should have tried 
to convince him of his folly and wickedness in 
wasting his heart on an unlawful affection, only 
that I am sure, poor dear boy, he has not a thought 
of wrong. I ought to have shown him the hollow- 
ness of Mrs. Vernon’s pretended yearnings after 
good, but I would rather be the angel fluttering on 
the threshold than the fool who rushes in ; and so, 
weakly — I admit, most weakly — I half promised 
compliance with his desire. But from all you tell 
me I tliink she will, herself, spare me the unpleasant 
and unprofitable task. If she has so thoroughly 
affiche herself with Lord Helvellyn it will be 
impossible for Vivian, with the best will in the 
world, to keep his eyes closed. And then — then 
for our deep-laid plot. We must catch him at the 
rebound and many him to dear, charming, good 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 170 

little Stella — who by the way, is not little, but the 
diminutive is a term of endearment. I see her 
frequently, and every time I grow fonder of her 
— she has such a kind heart and is innocent of all 
guile. Can there be anything so charming to a 
world-worn mind as innocence ? I can thorough!}' 
understand how captivating it must be to a man. 
No one would appreciate her more than Vivian — 
no one will appreciate her more once his eyes are 
open. For that time let us, his best friends, pray.” 

“ Amen ! ” I said with great heartiness, as 1 re- 
folded the letter and sat down to answer it. 

I did so with all the more pleasure as the days of 
my exile were drawing to a close, and I was able to 
apprise my beloved lady of the date of my return. 
Before I despatched my letter, I had some more 
news to communicate. Late that evening I met the 
man who had been so much annoyed by the be- 
haviour of Helvellyn and his party on the fust 
occasion of their dining at the hotel. 

“ Were you in the rooms to-night? ” he asked, 
as we met on the terrace, and I replied in the neg- 
ative. 

“ Your friend,” (everyone insisted on calling her 
my friend,) “ Mrs. Vernon, has had a pretty bad 
time. She lost a lot of money and she didn’t like 
it, and showed that she didn’t. So did Helvellyn, 
pretty plainly. Not very good form to let tlie 
world see that the loss was his, but there’s not 
much of noblesse oblige about him. And the old 
Duke is such a gentleman — he and my father are 


180 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

great friends. It’s a pity heredity, of which there 
is so much talk about nowadays, doesn’t come out 
in the right way.” 

“ Let us hope,” 1 replied, “ that His Grace will 
come out in the next generation. But I am sorry 
Mrs. Vernon has been so unlucky at the tables. 
It is a thousand pities she did not go off to-day with 
her winnings, as she threatened. What an extra- 
ordinary thing it is that people do not stop gam- 
bling after a big win or a big loss.” 

“ If they could and did,” remarked my friend 
sententiously, “ there would soon be an end to the 
tables.” 

I presently took a solitary stroll — it was a 
heavenly night, serene and still — and I found my- 
self speculating very seriously what could be the 
end of a career like Mrs. Vernon’s. Beautiful, 
admired, courted — yet how greatly to be pitied by 
anyone who could look beneath the surface. Per- 
haps, after all. Fate did not hold the balances quite 
so unevenly as I was sometimes tempted to believe ! 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


181 


CHAPTER XIII. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Stella was in love. She cherished her dear beau- 
tiful secret as a treasure beyond all price, and she 
would have been ready to die of shame if she had 
suspected that it was divined by any human being. 
For it is always a shame to a modest woman to 
know that she is giving her love unasked, and the 
very care which she takes to conceal her feelings 
not unfrequently results in her betrayal. Up to 
the present moment, however, Anthony Courtland 
and Athene were the only persons who knew her 
secret, and for her own peace of mind she was bliss- 
fully unconscious of their suspicions, nay, their cer- 
tainty. We know how safe it was in their hands, 
and how benevolently disposed both were towards 
her. 

Stella enshrined Vivian in the inner temple of 
her heart, and made votive offerings to him of the 
sweet flowers of her innocent thoughts, and burned 
the incense of constant adoration before him. She 
sighed often without being conscious of it — into 
her playing, always sympathetic, there now entered 
a yearning, passionate tenderness — she read a great 


182 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

deal of poetry, and her soul was filled with high 
thoughts of heroism and sacrifice. Passion was a 
word of deepest charm in her ears, passion of whose 
grosser meaning she was profoundly ignorant, and 
from which she would have recoiled with horror 
and disgust. But the word had its own meaning 
to her, as it has to thousands of innocent young 
girls — a meaning that could not be expressed, but 
that filled the soul with the noblest longings, the 
purest, highest aspirations. Indeed sacrifice, part- 
ings for love’s sake, death even for or with the be- 
loved — these are the elements that enter into the 
conception of passion by the ardent and innocent 
mind. The lovely and enthralling dreams they 
dream would melt and dispel before a coarse touch — 
a word, a smile, a look, these are the fuel that keep 
the flame burning strong and clear. World-worn 
and blase folk who have no patience to toil tlirough 
love’s gamut, who have spoiled their palates by be- 
ginning the banquet at the end, may yet have some- 
times a dim recollection of and regret for the time 
when simple delights yielded ten times more grati- 
fication than the most highly-seasoned pleasures 
can afford them to-day. Love has such a grand 
strong appetite when fed on a crust, and perishes 
miserably of a surfeit. An innocent heart can be 
made happy for a week or a month by a hand pres- 
sure from the beloved, a lingering look from his 
eyes, a vague word which her imagination can in- 
vest with deep and subtle meaning. Not all the 
flatteries, the gifts, the embraces offered to a worldly 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


183 


woman can bestow on her one tithe of their rapt- 
ure. Truly it is not the food wherewith we are 
fed, but the appetite we bring to it. And the ideal 
is often a greater factor than the real. We are 
more affected by what we imagine things to be 
than by what they are in reality — indeed, we are 
more influenced by beliefs than facts. This will 
account for the strange infatuations which some- 
times surprise us, and which shock us as the wor- 
ship of Titania for Bottom. Great love is so often 
unworthily given, not so much from the want of 
discernment and discrimination on the part of the 
worshipper, but because he possesses so vast a ca- 
pacity for loving that his affection must spend itself, 
and he will give it rather to one who is unworthy 
than force it back upon his own heart. So with a 
romantic girl (and a romantic girl is not a creature 
to be sneered at since she is the embryo of the lov- 
ing, self-sacrificing woman), her imagination is full 
of an ideal image whom she invests with her highest 
notions of honour, chivalry, tenderness, and manly 
beauty. And perhaps the only man who shows a 
disposition to love or desire her is a poor common- 
place creature as unlike her dream as the Sat3rr to 
Hyperion, but for the sake of her heart’s need she 
must yet clothe him with some at least of the attri- 
butes whose contemplation has delighted her soul 
and charmed her imagination. She may be forced 
at times to recognise his unlikeness to her ideal, 
but she will still cling to him and try to cheat her- 
self as to his real value. 


184 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


Stella, however, was not much in danger of dis- 
enchantment, for her hero had good looks, honour, 
and good qualities enough to make him a not un- 
worthy ideal for such an innocent young heart as 
hers. Only to look upon him, either for man or 
woman, was to be predisposed in his favour — he 
carried in his face the credentials which entitled 
him to love and confidence. Sometimes a girl who 
cherishes a secret passion for a man so idealises him 
in his absence that when she is in his company she 
cannot but be painfully aware how she has flattered 
his portrait in the painting, and is only able to go 
back to her idolatry when his presence is removed ; 
but every time that Stella met Vivian the hidden 
impressions of her heart were confirmed, and she 
crowned him with fresh laurel and myrtle. 

It is probable that her mother and sister would 
have remarked the change in her had they not been 
so engrossed with Violet’s trousseau and the prep- 
arations for the wedding — they had no time to 
think of other things or to remark Stella’s deeper 
thoughtfulness, her frequent sighs, the far-off ex- 
pression in her eyes. She had always seemed a lit- 
tle strange to them, and they had regarded her 
strangeness with kindly toleration though not with 
approval. To them the greatest desideratum was 
not to be uncommon or original, but to be good 
specimens of the ordinary mortal. They had no 
S5anpathy with what it is the fashion to call higli- 
falutin’ ideas. 

Stella had conceived an ardent and admiiiii^- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


185 


regard for Athene. She would have liked nothing 
so much as to confide in her, had she had anything 
to confide. But, alas ! a one-sided love is a thing 
to be carefully concealed by a proud heart, and 
Stella was by no means deficient in the pride that 
lends proper dignity and self-restraint to her sex. 
She did not dare to think Vivian would ever come 
to love her ; with the instinct of the true devotee, 
she abased and made light of herself before her 
ideah— that he should like her, have a friendly re- 
gard for her, was quite as much as and even more 
than she dared to hope for at present. Tlie young 
have so much time before them they can afford 
not to be in a hurry. To a woman of five-and- 
twenty a week seems a long time to be separated 
from her beloved, but to a young girl the future is 
illimitable, and she has no thought as her elder 
sister of the ravages Time will make and the 
charms which one by one he will wrest from her 
in the growing years. 

Now, upon this day which I take up my pen to 
chronicle, Stella was in a state of great though 
subdued excitement. Vivian was coming to din- 
ner. There were no long-drawn sighs to-day, she 
was as blithe as a lark and sang as she arranged 
the flowers for the dinner-table. She worshipped 
flowers, and had the most delicate taste, so this was 
her department in the household, this and the care 
of the birds and animals. She was absolutely de- 
voted to the dumb creation — to ill-use or neglect 
an animal was the most heinous and unpardonable 


186 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

crime in her eyes ; the passion of anger was un- 
known to her, except when she saw one ill-treated, 
and then she could blaze with very becoming in- 
dignation. All her instincts were tender and wo- 
manly — her idea of Pleaven was an atmosphere of 
kindness and love, where everyone should be happy 
and suffering absolutely unknown. 

On this occasion there was one vase over which 
she spent three times as long as the others, decorat- 
ing it with the choicest and most delicately-tinted 
blooms — need it be said that this was destined for 
Vivian’s immediate neighbourhood? The party 
was to be rather a larger one than usual, and she 
wondered with a thrill of excitement whether she 
would be permitted to sit next him. She would 
not for the world have betrayed her heart’s desire. 
She was not yet out, but was allowed to dine, ex- 
cept on the occasion of formal dinner-parties. Mrs. 
Wood looked uj)on her younger daughter as a 
mere child, and had at present no matrimonial 
views for her. When Violet was married, Stella 
would step into her place ; be presented, and taken 
to balls and parties, and it would be quite time 
enough then to think of her future. Since she had 
known Vivian, the subject of her appearance had 
for the first time become a matter of importance to 
Stella ; with the true woman’s instinct she wished 
to be fair, that she might be more desirable in the 
eyes of him whom she longed to please. She ap- 
parelled herself in white ; was unusually fastidi- 
ous as to the arrangement of her hair, and was al- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 187 

together so solicitous about her toilette that her 
nurse, who was now promoted to being half-house- 
keeper and half-maid to her former nursling, was 
inspired to make some leading remarks on the sub- 
ject which brought a very vivid blush to the girl’s 
face. Of course she denied the impeachment, and 
of course her nurse’s suspicions were the more 
confirmed by her denial. 

“Well, deary,” she said affectionately, “I never 
saw you look nicer, and the gentleman, whoever 
he is, will be very hard to please if he don’t think 
so too.” 

This flattery was honey sweet to Stella. 

“No, but do I really look nice, Batey?” she 
asked earnestly, and then she took an exhaustive 
survey of herself in the long glass, and an involun- 
tary smile parted her lips as the mirror endorsed 
Mrs. Bates’s asseveration. 

Vivian, as he greeted the girl, was struck by her 
beauty and her general unlikeness to the ordinary 
young lady of the period ; but she neither touched 
his senses nor his heart, seeing that the image en- 
shrined there had more potent charms than youth, 
or freshness, or innocence could give. Before that 
image had made its dwelling-place within him, he 
might have been keenly alive to this loveliness 
and grace — if it should come to be dethroned, he 
might yet awake to the knowledge that in Stella 
all the attributes of a good, tender, virtuous, love- 
able woman were budding. At this time, when 
the world was prospering so well with him, he was 


188 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

less happy than he had been at any time since he 
recovered from his double loss of fortune and love. 
Fate, with her strange, unkind caprice for giving 
with one hand and taking away with the other had 
robbed his worldly prosperity of the satisfaction it 
should have given him by bringing Mrs. Vernon 
across his path, and compelling him to love her 
again whether he would or no. He knew that he 
loved her, and the knowledge brought shame and 
misery to him, though he trusted implicitly in his 
own sense of honour and integrity to keep him 
from betraying his feelings. It seemed to him that 
if he could only once see her in the right path, 
help her to escape from the meshes which a loose, 
unprincipled society, and a selfish, dishonourable 
husband, had drawn round her, he could be con- 
tent to keep away, to strangle his passion, to con- 
quer every thought or wish that was not for her 
highest good. He believed himself so strong that 
his very feeling of security was more likely to pre- 
cipitate his downfall when the hour for it struck. 
The young are so confident — we older folk, who 
have been taught by many stumbles and falls, 
know that it is only through God’s mercy we can 
come safely through the stony road of temptation. 
And, in the long run, none of us is the worse for 
having learned to doubt himself ; if it has no other 
effect, it at least makes us more charitable to our 
fellow-pilgrims, more ready to give them a helping 
hand. 

The thought of Mrs. Vernon at Monte Carlo was 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


189 


gall and wormwood to him, and, though he made a 
thousand excuses for her in his heart, doubt, the 
cruellest pang to a lover, would creep in and make 
itself felt. There lurked no faintest jealousy in 
his heart of Helvellyn, who was to him a creature 
beneath contempt ; his jealousy was altogether im- 
personal, and was for her good name alone. The 
picture he drew of her in his mind was not that of 
the beautiful, radiant being surrounded by homage 
and adoration, envied and enviable ; it was of an 
unprotected woman, weary and dissatisfied, exposed 
to the sneers of a malevolent and censorious world. 
He had received the impression she intended to 
give him, and had enlarged upon it to an extent 
which, had she known it, would have been some- 
what displeasing to her vanity. She only wished 
to inspire the pity that is akin to love. Every gen- 
erous nature must try to believe in the being it 
loves, and, when Vivian’s heart was assailed by 
doubts, he would fall back on the remembrance of 
Magdalen with her children’s arms about her neck, 
or on that happy afternoon they spent together in 
the Regent’s Park. He had not forgotten the 
harsh things he said of her to Anthony, and every 
time he recollected them he winced, half at his 
own brutality (so he called it now), half because 
he knew that truth underlaid his words. Though 
he made excuses for her in his heart, he was deeply 
hurt by her going to Monte Carlo ; if he defended 
her hotly to others, it was a more difficult task to 
vindicate her conduct to himself. He would not 


190 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 

go and see her on her return, and yet how he longed 
for a sight of her. If she begged liim to go to her, 
could he resist ? For almost the first time in his 
life he doubted his own strength, and, though this 
might be ultimately beneficial and softening to his 
moral character, it was inexpressibly painful and 
disagreeable to him. 

Stella, who, young as she was, had an intuitive 
sympathy that made her feel a thing before she 
comprehended it, guessed that his mind was ill at 
ease. She knew there was a difference in him 
since the first two occasions on wliich he had been 
her mother’s guest. He was as kind in his man- 
ner, smiled at and talked to her as genially, but 
there was something, something she could not 
define, that made liim seem further off from her 
than before. 

During dinner an incident occurred that caused 
her a strange uneasiness. One of the guests was a 
friend of Jim’s, who had come back from Monte 
Carlo the previous day. He sat opposite Stella and 
Vivian, who had taken her in, and, towards the 
middle of dinner, Jim apostrophised him from the 
end of the table. 

“ What sort of luck did you have at the tables, 
Bob?” 

“ The same as usual,” he replied. “ I lost my 
little all, and had only just enough to bring me 
home.” 

“ And who was there ? ” 

“ Our friend Tony. I think he is rather by way 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


191 


of being a satellite of the beauty Mrs. Vernon, who 
was there in great force.” 

Stella, who liked Anthony, looked up and began 
to listen. 

“ Old Tony is coming out,” cried Jim. “ I hope 
he is not going to forswear his allegiance of all 
these years.” 

“ Not much fear of that ! ” interrupted Vivian. 

“ But what of the beauty ? ” queried Jim. “ Did 
she seem to regard our Tony with favour ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, in the intervals which she could spare 
from her desperate flirtation with Helvellyn.” 

Stella, happening to glance at Vivian, saw the 
swift blood rush to his face, though he bent down 
over his plate. She looked away, wondering and 
uneasy. 

“ Oh, is he the last ? ” asked Jim. “ I remember 
him a horrid young cub at Eton, who wanted any 
amount of licking to make him at all shapeable.” 

“ He is not much improved since then,” remarked 
the man addressed as Bob. “ I had a talk with him 
one night, and was by no means favourably im- 
pressed. Still he is the eldest son of a Duke, and 
has wads of money, and I suppose these are pass- 
ports to the favour of the most beautiful woman in 
Christendom, unless she occupies a very exalted 
position. His manner towards her had an unpleas- 
antly proprietary and familiar air which I think I 
should have resented had I been the lady, but as he 
was supposed to supply the funds ” 

Suddenly the speaker checked himself, appar- 


192 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

eiitly recollecting the presence of the daughters of 
the house, looked confused, and rushed abruptly 
into a story of a man who broke the bank two 
nights running. 

Again Stella glanced at Vivian, and saw a per- 
turbed, angry expression on his face. She had not 
comprehended the allusion to Helvellyn and Mrs. 
Vernon, but she knew that something had been 
said which hurt Vivian, and with instinctive deli- 
cacy she turned to her other neighbour to give him 
time to recover. After that a shadow fell on her 
too — she knew not why, the pleasure that she took 
in being near him lost something of its flavour. 
She longed to know what hurt him, still more to 
have the power to heal his hurt. She was so anx- 
ious to please him, to make him forget what had 
ruffled him, and her very anxiety made the task a 
thousand times more difflcult. She had an instinct 
that if she could play to him with all the pathos at 
her command, it might soothe him ; but the little 
trivialities which were all she could think of to say 
were, she felt, worse than useless. A deep and pain- 
ful consciousness overwhelmed her that he knew 
and cared nothing for what she was saying ; that, 
although he smiled and responded to her efforts, 
his heart and thoughts were far, far away. A chill 
disappointment crept over her — she was nothing to 
him but a stupid little girl whom it was an effort to 
talk to, and the shadow deepened and deepened 
until the brightness died from her eyes, the joy 
from her heart, and she fell into silence. Then she 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY. 193 

had the mortification of seeing him turn his atten- 
tions to the lady next him, a woman of a certain 
age, and embark with her in a spirited discussion on 
a social question of the day. Something seemed to 
rise in her throat and choke her — she could not 
eat another morsel — even when her favourite sweet 
was handed to her she rejected it. Her lip quiv- 
ered — she was ready to cry ; as her eyes fell on the 
masterpiece of floral decoration in which she haa 
taken so much pleasure, the bitter thought that it 
had been but a foolish waste of time and energy 
smote her. She had meant to ask him about so 
many things, to discover what subjects most inter- 
ested him, and now she felt as though he regarded 
her only as a commonplace little schoolgirl, whom 
it was too much trouble to talk to. And this was 
tlie delightful evening to which she had looked for- 
ward with so much eagerness. He did not approach 
her after dinner, except to thank her when she played, 
and she longed for the hour when she should be 
able to creep away alone to cry her poor little heart 
out. To smile and assume an air of gaiety when 
one is mortified and unhappy is a task that can only 
be performed by those who have served an appren- 
ticeship to disappointment and disillusion. Poor 
Stella’s attempts would not have deceived a child, 
only that, fortunately for her, everyone was too 
much occupied with his own conversation to notice 
her. So in due time the evening came to a close, 
and she went to bed and cried as the young do cry 
when they get their first lesson in the bitterness of 


194 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


life. She wondered, with something that was not 
mere curiosity, why Vivian had reddened and held 
down his head at the mention of Mrs. Vernon’s 
name. On this point her curiosity was destined to 
receive some satisfaction. The next day at lunch- 
eon Mrs. Wood remarked to her son-in-law elect, 

“ Did you notice how annoyed Mr. Lloyd looked 
last night when you were asking about Monte 
Carlo?” 

“ Yes/’ returned Jim, “ I saw he was very glum, 
but I knew the reason and hurried the conversa- 
tion into a different channel as soon as I could.” 

“What was it?” asked Mrs. Wood. “Surely 
he was never a gambler.” 

“ He ! ” echoed Jim, “ the very last ! He was 
annoyed by what was said about Mrs. Vernon. 
You know he was madly in love with her as a young 
chap, and I believe, indeed I know, wanted and 
hoped to marry her. Poor old boy ! I remember 
how he used to bore me with his rhapsodies — there 
never was such a being — a galaxy of angels could 
hardly have contained all her perfection. Ah, 
well ! ” Jim broke off with a tender glance at his 
betrothed, “ I can understand it better now, but in 
those days I used to get very sick of it. Tony, I 
believe, bore the principal brunt, but he was always 
a bit soft-hearted and sentimental, dear old chap ! ” 

“ But that must have been years ago,’^ remarked 
Mrs. Wood. 

“ Yes, but possibly the scent of the roses still 
clings around the vase. I can quite believe that if 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 195 

Vi threw me over to-day, I might feel bad eight or 
nine years hence if I heard of her gambling and 
flirting with a fellow like Helvellyn.” 

“ Did she throw him over ? ” 

“ As good as. That was after the crash.” 

‘‘I suppose that is why he has not married,” 
observed Mrs. Wood. 

And here the subject dropped. 


196 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


CHAPTER XIV. 

FKOM VAEIOUS SOURCES. 

Stella had ample food for reflection after this. 
She had eagerly drunk in every word of the con- 
versation, and would have given worlds to take 
Jim aside and question him, but she was terrified 
of betraying herself. If anyone were to guess her 
sentiments towards Vivian, especially after the 
indifference with which he had treated her the 
previous evening, she felt that she would die of 
shame. It fell in with her conception of his char- 
acter that he should have loved deeply and remained 
faithful to the memory of his love, but oh ! what 
stabs it inflicted on the poor little heart to 
think that this inestimable treasure had been given 
to another ; to one so unworthy of it. For a 
woman who would not have been content to share 
poverty and tribulation of any sort with her hero 
was in Stella’s eyes indeed unworthy of him. 
She knew little of the world and its ways — she 
had not mixed with girls who were as much aufait 
with the scandals and lax customs of the day as 
their own mothers — if she had read of great unlaw- 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY. 197 

ful passions in some of her favourite books, they 
were but vaguely comprehended by her, and she 
was quite ignorant that it was a fashion tolerated 
by society that a woman should have or desire the 
love and admiration of men other than her hus- 
band. She jumped to the conclusion that Mrs. 
Vernon was a widow, still beloved by Vivian, and 
that the cause of his emotion had been jealousy 
evoked by what had been said about Lord Helvel- 
lyn. All hope for herself died within her breast — 
the thought that the love which seemed to her the 
greatest prize on earth had been given, nay, was 
given to another plunged her into despair. Some 
day she would hear that he was going to marry 
this beautiful woman, or, if not — if she were so 
blind and foolish and wicked as to take another 
man because he was richer or more highly placed, 
— then he, this chivalrous, high-minded being 
would forever wear the willow, and remain faith- 
ful to his first love. Oh ! thrice happy woman to 
have won such love, and thrice unworthy not to 
have known it as the highest good. 

Stella pondered this thing in her heart without 
ceasing and longed intensely to hear more. If Mr. 
Courtland were in London, she would not mind 
asking him — he was always ready to talk of Vivian 
— but he was still at Monte Carlo, although the 
date of his return was fixed. She was overjoyed 
one morning to get a note from Athene inviting 
her to lunch and drive. She could say anything 
to this kind lady without fear of being misunder- 


198 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

stood or looked askance at, and she resolved to seek 
in this quarter the information she ardently de- 
sired. She planned exactly in her mind how she 
would introduce the subject, and went over and 
over again to herself the imaginary conversation. 
Yet no sooner were the words on her lips than the 
flame mounted to her cheek and her heart beat 
with nervous agitation. But Athene was the last 
person in the world to add to or appear to notice 
the confusion of a young girl, and, although her 
quick perception at once divined what was pass- 
ing in Stella’s mind, she appeared serenely uncon- 
scious, and answered her questions in the most 
matter-of-fact tone whilst she occupied herself in 
re-arranging the vase of flowers nearest to her. 

“Do you know Mrs. Vernon?” Stella asked, 
horrified to find her voice trembling, and Athene 
replied, 

“ Oh, yes, I have known her for years.” 

Stella gained courage. 

“ Is she very beautiful ? ” 

“ Yes, I think she is. At all events, she is 
greatly admired.” 

Stella’s next question startled Athene a little. 

“ Has her husband been dead long ? ” 

“ He is not dead,” she answered, holding the 
vase up to the light. 

Stella was so astounded by this revelation that 
she could think of nothing to say for a moment. 
How fortunate that Athene was not looking at 
her. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 199 

“ What made you think he was dead ? ” asked 
this lady carelessly. 

“ Oh ! ” returned Stella confused, “ Mr. Grey, 
a friend of Jim’s, was talking about her at dinner 
last night, and — and from what he said, I thought 
she was perhaps going to marry Lord Helvellyn.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Athene quietly. “Lord Hel- 
vellyn is a great friend of Captain Vernon’s — they 
are all at Monte Carlo together.” 

She had not the remotest intention of putting 
undesirable notions into this innocent young 
mind. 

Stella felt immensely relieved, although she 
wondered a little. Certainly Mr. Grey’s tone and 
manner had given her the impression that Lord 
Helvellyn was a suitor for Mrs. Vernon’s favour, 
but if he was simply a friend of her husband’s, 
that explained the matter. Only why should 
Vivian have coloured and seemed annoyed ? 

“Did you know Mrs. Vernon before she mar- 
ried ? ” she asked shyly. 

Athene guessed at once that the girl had heard 
something about Vivian and the lady in question, 
and prepared to smooth matters down as much as 
possible in the interests of everyone concerned. 

u Yes — I made her acquaintance tlu’ough Vivian 
who was attached to her in those days.” 

“Jim said he was engaged to her,” observed 
Stella, fastening her large eyes on Athene. 

“ Only for a short time. It was just before poor 
Colonel Lloyd died.” 


200 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ Is it true/' asked Stella, so solemnly that 
Athene was half-tempted to smile, ‘‘ that she gave 
him up because he was poor ? ” 

“ He could not have married her then,” remarked 
Athene, — “ life at all was a struggle for him, poor 
boys ! ” 

“ But she could have waited !” exclaimed Stella, 
almost indignantly ; “ if she had cared for him, 
she would have wanted to comfort him, to be 
everything to him in his trouble.” 

“ Well, yes,” agreed Athene, “ that is what seems 
most natural for a woman to do when she loves 
a man.” 

“ She could not have loved him,” declared Stella, 
with great emphasis. 

“ Perhaps,” smiled Athene, “ it was for the best. 
I do not think she would have been very well 
suited to him.” 

“Was he very miserable,” asked Stella, still 
with eager, solemn eyes, “ after she gave him up ? ” 

“ I think he was. Vivian is not a man to forget 
easily. But he did not wear his heart on his 
sleeve. Whatever he suffered he kept to himself, 
and he made a brave stand against misfortune, and 
now, happily, the evil days are past, and I hope 
the best of his life is before him.” 

“ But he will never love again ? ” said Stella, 
half-questioningly, half-affirmatively. 

“ Oh, indeed, I hope he will,” exclaimed Athene 
brightly. “ Love is the great need of most lives, 
and there are very few people who only love once.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


201 


“ But,” asked Stella, looking at Athene as though 
she were an oracle, “ could anyone love twice like 
that?” 

“ Will you be shocked if I say yes ? ” smiled 
Athene. “ Will you consider me guilty of rank 
blasphemy if I tell you that the power of loving 
lies in our own hearts, and that we do not cease to be 
capable of the passion because the one to whom we 
first gave it died, or, living, rejected it ? ” 

Stella took some comfort from this on Vivian’s 
behalf, but was quite certain that she could never 
love a second time under any circumstances or con- 
ditions whatever. And, indeed, it must be a blessed 
fate to love but once in a lifetime ; to go through 
the vale of years hand in hand with the beloved, 
and never to have known an unfaithful thought. 
Stella took courage, and put one last question. 

“ Does Mr. Lloyd know Mrs. Vernon now? ” 

And Athene replied, 

“ I think they met the other day for the first 
time since her marriage.” 

On the whole, Stella was consoled. Vivian could 
not love this beautiful woman now, but it was only 
natural that he should take an interest in her, and 
be vexed if anyone cast reflections on what she did. 

Mrs. Vernon had returned to May Fair from 
Monte Carlo. Taken as a whole, her visit had 
not been a success ; had not afforded her the grat- 
ification or the benefit which she had expected 
from it. Could she have brought back with her 


202 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

the pile of gold which for twenty>four hours had 
been hers, it would have gone a long way towards 
obliterating less pleasing recollections ; but, alas ! 
the greedy green cloth had swallowed it up and 
a good deal more besides, and Helvellyn was not 
altogether the type of man to whom it might be a 
real pleasure to be indebted. He could be lavish 
and reckless with his money, but he had a mean, 
ignoble nature, and more than once, in spite of his 
ostentation, Magdalen had winced under some in- 
tentional or unintentional reminder that he held 
the purse-strings. Nothing brings out the petty 
and unamiable side of human nature so much as 
foreign travel, and however comfortably and lux- 
uriously it may be done, there are constant jars and 
irritations. 

Helvellyn, who could not bear the slightest 
thwarting of his wishes, and was thoroughly sel- 
fish, had shown himself in anything but an agree- 
able light, and it had required all Captain Vernon’s 
good-humour and readiness to be obliging, to keep 
him within bounds. Magdalen was disgusted with 
him, and was not always careful to conceal her dis- 
gust. He acted as an excellent foil to Vivian, who 
was constantly in her thoughts, and whose virtues 
she magnified a thousandfold at the other’s expense. 
She longed to see him — the greater part of her 
homeward journey was occupied in composing a 
letter that should bring him to her side. She was 
horribly afraid lest he should refuse to come, and 
her whole heart was set on seeing him. She wrote 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


203 


twenty letters in her mind before she decided 
finally upon what she would say — she knew it 
would be unwise to seem too eager, and she did 
not wish to show him that she felt guilty or 
doubted his wish to come to her. 

The morning after her return she wrote : 

“ My dear Vivian, 

“We got back last night, and oh ! how 
glad I am to be with the dear chicks once more — 
they were wild with joy at seeing me. I got so 
tired of Monte Carlo — of course, it is very bright 
and gay, and the sunshine and the flowers were 
delightful, but there is no place like home, and dear, 
smoky old London is the dearest, comfortablest 
place in the world (when there isn’t a fog). Do 
come and see me very, very soon — shall it be to- 
morrow?— if not, it must be Thursday at latest. 
The children are clamouring for you, and are wild 
to go to the Zoo again and see the lions and tigers, 
and so am I. So send me a line at once, or if you 
are kind, for I hate suspense, you will wire and tell 
us to expect you to-morrow. Then I will confide 
to you all our doings, and give you the latest news 
of Mr. Courtland, who was to have left before us, 
but unfortunately not a slight feverish attack, and 
is remaining a few days longer under the especial 
care of Lady Hilldown, who is quite devoted to him. 
Good-bye, d hientdt, n^est ce pas f 

“ Your old friend, 

“ Magdalen.” 


204 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


Now I put it to the impartial reader whether a 
young man, with a very tender spot in his heart for 
a beautiful woman who wrote him such an effusion, 
could be churlish enough to refuse to obey her 
summons ? Vivian did battle with his conscience 
for a bit, but it was a very feeble, half-hearted fight ; 
for the letter was so SAveet to his senses, and every 
time he read it his resolution waxed fainter, and in 
the end, though he did not send the telegram she 
besought, he wrote saying that he hoped to have 
the pleasure of calling in Curzon Street the follow- 
ing day. 

When the note was despatched, and he knew 
that he was going to see her, joy took possession 
of his heart. He felt he was wrong, that he was 
weak, that he was paltering with his conscience, 
but conscience was droAvned in longing and had to 
go to the wall, being Aveaker than his desire. He 
told himself that he meant to show her quite plainly 
how strongly he disapproved of the expedition 
from which she had just returned. In the capacity 
of candid friend, he resolved to tell her hoAV injuri- 
ously her name had been coupled Avith Helvellyn’s, 
and he Avould — yes, he Avould remind her of Avhat 
he had said before, that his friendship Avas condi- 
tional on — pshaAV ! Avhat right had he to make con- 
ditions ? A sense of shame at his OAvn Aveakness 
stole over him. He did not suspect that he Avas 
going to be taught a lesson that Avould make him 
more indulgent in his heart to Aveaker brethren. 

Magdalen awaited him next day fully equipped 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


205 


for battle — her weapons were the glances of her 
beautiful eyes, and the chains with which she meant 
to bind her captive after she had conquered him 
were woven of dowel's. She brought her children 
into the field as allies, very powerful ones, too, and 
as he entered the room he beheld the armies in 
battle array, and the younger combatants fiung 
themselves upon him before he had time to defend 
himself. In one breathless moment Gladys had her 
little arms round his neck, and was kissing and 
hugging him with incoherent cries of joy, Archie 
was jealously hanging to his coat, and the lovety 
mother, radiant with smiles, was greeting him with 
no feigned pleasure. A pretty preparation for the 
lecture he had come to deliver ! A sense of 
supreme happiness stole into his heart which, like 
every earthly pleasure, held its corresponding pang. 
Ah ! if these pure joys were lawfully his ; but they 
were not — never could be. 

Magdalen had acted with great perspicacity in 
having the children with her — their presence re- 
lieved the situation of all awkwardness, put off the 
possibility of explanations until her guest should 
be so softened and subdued that there would in all 
probability be no need for them. For herself, she 
had not been so happy for years — it seemed to her 
as though this were the natural order of things, and 
that Vivian belonged of right to the family group. 
The tea-party was a delightful one, ruffled only by 
such little contretemps as Gladys upsetting tlie 
cream down her frock and Archie breaking a cup 


206 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

in their eagerness to minister to their friend, but 
Vivian took the little girl on his knee and wiped 
the stains with fatherly tenderness, and Archie 
was not even scolded for his awkwardness. A 
visit to the Zoo was arranged for the following 
Saturday, and then, in accordance with previous 
instructions, Nurse appeared to carry off the chil- 
dren. There was sad tribulation at this, but their 
mother was not to be prevailed upon by prayers 
and entreaties to let them stay longer, so nurse re- 
tired in triumph with her charges, and Gladys, 
after a final and protracted hug, turned to go, with 
two big tears trembling on her lashes. Seeing 
these, Vivian caught her once more in his arms, 
kissed away the tears, and begged to be allowed to 
carry her up to the nursery, and, this being done to 
the satisfaction of all parties, — including Nurse, 
who was greatly taken by his good looks and “ nice 
ways,” as she expressed it, — Vivian presently re- 
turned to a tete-d-tete with Magdalen. Thanks to 
this lady’s tact, the situation was entii'ely changed 
— he had no smallest desire to lecture or condemn 
— indeed he would have evaded the subject of 
Monte Carlo altogether, had she not broached it. 

“ I saw a great deal of your friend, Mr. Court- 
land,” she said ; and was then pleased to make 
some very flattering remarks about that individual, 
to which Vivian gave a hearty assent. 

“You know,” Magdalen proceeded, “I had 
never been there before, and I had always heard it 
described in such glowing colours that when my 


OF THE WOBLI), WORLDLY. 207 

husband suggested it, and the doctor said it would 
be a good thing for my tliroat to get out of the fog 
and smoke, I made up my mind all in a hurry to 
go. Well, and now I shall confess to you all about 
it,’’ and she put on that pretty, confidential air 
which must have enchanted him had his feelings 
for her been of a colder nature than they were. “ I 
was not a bit happy there, and I did not like my 
party at all. I only knew Lady Benet slightly 
before we went, and thought her rather a nice 
woman ; but she is not nice, not at all nice — she 
likes to make herself conspicuous in public, which 
to my mind is the most detestable thing in the 
world. As for Mr. Fairbank, whom they call the 
Hatter — I really think he is mad — he cares for noth- 
ing but bear fighting and practical jokes ; and Lord 
Helvellyn,” with a gesture meant to convey the idea 
of indifferent toleration, “ is good-natured enough, 
but there is nothing in him, and I was bored to 
death with his company. Whenever I could get 
away from him, I took refuge with Mr. Courtland. 
Did he,” with slight hesitation, “ did he tell you 
anything about me ? ” 

“ I only had one letter from him,” returned 
Vivian, “ and he did not even mention your name. 
But,” looking at her and speaking as though the 
words were forced from him, “ I did hear of you 
from others.” 

‘‘ Yes ? ” a little nervously. “ And what did they 
say ? Oh, I can imagine,” with an uneasy smile. 
‘‘ Monte Carlo is the most extraordinary place for 


208 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


gossip and scandal. I have no doubt they said I 
flirted with Helvellyn, and gambled away my last 
farthing.” 

“ Not your last farthing,” replied Vivian, hating 
himself for saying it, and yet compelled by some 
hidden force. 

“ Whose, then ? my husband’s, or,” with the 
smile of a person suggesting an absurd improba- 
bility, “ Lord Helvellyn’s perhaps ? ” 

“ Yes,” he answered, not taking his eyes from 
her face. 

“ I am not surprised,” she observed, with an 
uneasy laugh. “ That is just the sort of thing 
they do say there. Why, everyone declared that 

poor little Lady D lost a thousand pounds, 

and that a rich stock-broker whom she only met 
at dinner two days before paid for her losses. My 
husband gave me twenty pounds when we arrived, 
and I was very lucky at first — indeed, at one 
time, I won over four hundred louis — but unfortu- 
nately I was persuaded to go on, and I suppose the 
spirit of the gambler entered into me and would 
not let me leave well alone, and so I lost it all 
again, to my intense vexation.” 

What could Vivian say to this simple narrative 
of facts, wishing as he did to believe the best of 
her? 

“ I do not think a woman ought to gamble,” he 
said in a low voice, looking away from her into 
the fire. 

“ I am quite sure she oughtn’t,” cried Magdalen 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


209 


eagerly, seeing that she was going to get off much 
more lightly than she had hoped. “ I think it is 
horrid, unwomanly, everything that is bad. You 
cannot condemn me more than I do myself. But 
I have had my lesson, I will never gamble again. 
Shall I swear it to you ? ” 

Her voice was full of excitement and emotion ; 
her expressive eyes had something like tears in 
them ; he felt that she was throwing herself on his 
mercy, that his good opinion was dear to her. 

What could his heart do but melt and soften ? 
what could he do but look tenderly at her and say, 
in his kindest voice, 

“ Do not swear, but promise me for your own 
sake. No one knows better than you what is right 
and good ; think of your children, and give it up 
for their sakes.” 

“ Yes,” she said, and this time the tears fell, “ I 
will — I mil indeed. Oh, if I had always you 
with me I should never want to do anything but 
right,” and she looked straight into his eyes. 

He had a burning consciousness of the temptation 
that was striking at his very soul, but he did not 
guess for an instant that she meant to tempt him, 
or knew that she was tempting him. He shut his 
teeth hard ; a great sigh almost rent his breast ; he 
looked away from her and was silent. He must 
be strong for both their sakes. And she felt a 
sense ot vexed impatience, and was ready in her 
heart to call him a Quixotic fool. She would not 
help him or break the silence, and presently he 


210 OF THE WORLD, WORLDL Y. 

asked in his natural voice what time he should call 
for her and the childi’en on Saturday. 

She fixed three o’clock, and after a little desul- 
tory conversation, he rose to take his leave. She 
did not press him to remain, knowing that in his 
present frame of mind a protracted interview 
would be unsatisfactory and perhaps embarrassing. 
She had vindicated herself — he believed implicitly 
all that she had told him — so she must be content 
with this success, and not do anything that might 
detract from it. In wishing her good-bye he 
scarcely met her eyes — he did not even give the 
slightest pressure to her hand, that sign of feeling 
to which a woman attaches so much importance. 

She assumed a gay, unembarrassed air. 

“ Till Saturday, then,” she said ; and he re- 
peated, 

“ Till Saturday.” 

When he was gone, she sat over the fire tapping 
her foot impatiently oh the felider. How per- 
versely things happened ! In a general way all her 
tact and ingenuity were required to prevent men 
from showing their feelings for her, and this man, 
who had every opportunity, every encouragement, 
was not to be induced to betray himself, or to be 
taken off his guard. It was not that he was indif- 
ferent to her — Magdalen was too well versed in 
the ways of men not to know that he cared for 
her — he 'was one of those tiresome, estimable 
persons whose sentiments are expressed by the 
lines : 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


211 


“ I could not love thee, dear, so well, 

Loved I not honour more.” 

That was all very charming in theory, and read 
extremely well in books, but practically, in real 
life, it was a bore. Well! with a shrug of vexa- 
tion, since a woman cannot take the initiative, 
there was nothing for it but to wait until his love 
mastered his scruples. Worldly as she was, 
blunted as was her better nature, she could not 
withhold her respect from him, and she even went 
so far as to regret that she had not waited and 
shared his fortunes. 


212 


OF THE WOULD, WOliLDLY. 


CHAPTER XV. 

FEOM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Vivian was a prey to conflicting feelings. A 
gloom fell upon him as he issued from the four 
walls that held so much of Paradise. He had 
nothing to regret — ^lie entertained no design 
against any of its inmates — he was not consumed 
by an unlawful passion — indeed, for the moment 
Gladys occupied a larger portion of his thoughts 
than her beautiful mother. He still felt those 
dear little entwining arms round his neck, the 
soft cheek pressed against his, the warm kisses of 
the rosebud mouth, and saw in fancy the big tears 
trembling on her lashes at parting from him. His 
heart glowed with a delightful warmth at the re- 
membrance, but then came the chill recollection 
that these joys, which to have any satisfaction in 
them must belong of right to him and be of frequent 
recurrence, were only occasional glimpses into a 
region whose gates he stood without. The cares 
of business had occupied his mind up to the present 
time, but now that his future seemed smooth and 
assured, he wanted happiness, personal happiness. 
And of this he was painfully conscious there was no 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


213 


prospect — indeed, these occasional and infrequent 
hours of happiness were more likely to make him 
unsettled and discontented than the reverse. He 
knew his danger ; he knew that friendship with 
Magdalen was impossible for himself — he refused 
to speculate upon her feelings for him. The weak- 
ness of a woman is a potent charm to a man, but 
if he is high-principled, the thought of taking 
advantage of it would fill him with horror and 
self-scorn. He had a vague presentiment that the 
present state of things could not last — sooner or 
later he would have to cut himself off from her 
life, but meantime he looked forward to Saturday 
with an eagerness that he had not known since he 
was a boy. He comforted himself too with the 
thought that she was not to blame for the visit to 
Monte Carlo, and that the gossip which had been 
circulated about her was malicious and untrue. 
He believed implicitly every word of the explana- 
tion she had given him ; believed implicitly too 
in her regrets, and gave her full and free absolu- 
tion. Where one has doubted the beloved one, 
it is such joy to have one’s faith restored. Ah ! 
if she had only been content to wait for him, 
how unutterably blest he might be now. 

Saturday came, and he was as pleased as a school- 
boy to find the morning fine and promising. The 
weather was mild, almost spring-like, and they all 
went off in a hansom, to the immense glee of the 
children. The jaunt was even more successful 
than the previous one, perfect harmony reigned, 


214 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

no slightest contretemps occurred, Magdalen met 
a woman of her acquaintance who had evidently 
come to enjoy a solitude d deux. She had not 
brought her children to chaperon her. On their 
return to Curzon Street they had tCa in the nur- 
sery, and Gladys insisted that her beloved friend 
should only drink out of her doll’s cups and be 
served by her, and he was delighted to humour 
her and be fed by her solicitous though buttery 
little fingers as she sat on his knee. It occurred 
to him to wonder what the husband did with him- 
self, as he had never encountered him in his 
visits — a circumstance for which, however, he was 
devoutly thankful. 

Magdalen had forgotten when she came in to 
give orders that callers were not to be admitted, 
and as they were in the midst of their tea-party, 
her maid came to announce that there was a lady 
in the drawing-room. She was greatly vexed, but 
there was nothing for it, so she had to say good- 
bye to Vivian, who was going into the country to 
stay with his future partner until Monday, and 
repair downstairs in an exceedingly ill-humour. 
But the visitor was a personage in society, and as 
Magdalen turned the handle of the door, she 
wreathed her face in smiles and assumed as charm- 
ing and cordial an air as though nothing could 
have given her more pleasure or be more welcome 
than this visit. She had been counting on the^ 
half-hour she would have alone with Vivian when 
they left the nursery, and could not imagine how 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


215 


she had come to forget to tell the servant not to 
admit callers. 

Ten minutes later Helvellyn was announced, 
whereupon the first visitor after a short interval 
declared that she had promised to be at home by 
a certain hour which was fast approaching, this 
polite fiction being necessitated by the unwritten 
code of honour which prevents one woman in- 
terfering with the tHe-d-tete of another with an 
avowed or even probable admirer. 

“ Thank goodness for that,” exclaimed his lord- 
ship, as he closed the door upon the retreating 
guest. 

“ Why ? ” coldly asked Magdalen, who was not 
afraid to give vent to her ill-humour now. 

She was in a very ill-humour, firstly at having 
been deprived of her talk with Vivian — not know- 
ing, moreover, when she would see him again — 
and secondly because she was afraid that he might 
still he in the house and become aware by some 
unlucky chance that Helvellyn was here and alone 
with her. She had a momentary thought of run- 
ning up to the nursery to bid him a second fare- 
well and elicit from him a promise to come again 
soon, but just as she was turning this possibility 
over in her mind she heard the front door shut 
and guessed that he had let himself out. 

It is by no means calculated to improve one’s 
temper to know that one is within reach of a dear 
friend, and that one is being kept from the enjoy- 
ment of his society by a person to whom one is 


216 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY, 


something) more than indifferent. It does not dis- 
pose one charitably towards the latter. 

“ I say,” remarked Helvellyn, “ won’t you ring 
and tell them you are not at home? ” 

“ No,” she answered shortly. “ It looks so bad ! ” 
“ H’m ! ” uttered Helvellyn, in a disagreeable 
tone — “ I should liave thought that they were used 
t0 it by this.” ^ 

/'hat do you mean ? ” asked Magdalen, with 
dasffihg^.eyjeS. 

|e looked a li^iUe bit friglitened. 

I ell, rye heardymu do it before,” he said half- 
i^logeticaliy^. “ And it’s nothing very unusual, 
Ms;' it? Everybody does it when they don’t want 
^ a'tbhpd person.” \ 

have no objection whatever to a third per- 
ko]E(,” she remarked coldly. 

/‘‘Ah, well, if you haven’t, I have,” he returned, 
,with a forced laugh. “ But what’s wrong ? what 
^ have I done now ? It seems us^e I am always 
putting my foot in it.” 

“ There is nothing wrong,” she >^lied wearily, 
“ only of course people know that^^m at home, 
and they are offended when they are not let in. 
Besides, why should they not come in ? I have 
nothing to say that I object to their hearing.” 

“ But I have,” he said. And he approached and 
took her hand, but she drew it sharply away. A 
particularly unpleasant expression came into his 
eyes, and she saw it not without alarm. “ Oh,” he 
said stiffly, “ if my presence is disagreeable to you^ I 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


217 


will take it where it will be more welcome. I have 
had four letters from Lady Ida since my return 
begging and praying me to go and see her. I have 
one here,” tapping his breast-pocket, “ saying she 
would expect me up to seven-thirty to-day. Well, 
I think 111 go. Good-bye.” 

]V(agdalen was frightened. She knew perfectly 
well that for many reasons she could not afford to 
quail’d with him, and she realised to the full the 
dan^r of letting him go to Lady Ida burning with 
resenjbment against herself. There was nothing 
chivarous about Helvellyn, no sacred law of honour 
in hi^ heart that would prevent him from talking 
of onl woman to another — indeed, that was the 
very »rt of meanness in which he would take par- 
ticulai pleasure, as it would be flattering his vanity 
and giktifying his revenge^ at the sam^lime. 

Contempt filled her whdl^ soul as she looked at 
him anl compared him physicJ^lly and morally with 
Vivian,! hut she was actress diough to riiask her 
real feeWgs behind a smile and say, in K very 
differenitone from that she had used before, 

‘‘ Worn you rather go to Lady Ida ? She woui 
be very ^ased, would she not ? ” 

“ Yes,”he replied, with great emphasis— she 
would ! lake no mistake about that ! ” 

“ Well !\ uttered Magdalen, in a pretty coaxing 
voice, whife she hated and despised herself, and 
much mori her companion — “she shall not be 
pleased. iVant you, and you must stay with me.” 
He was wl satisfied with his weapon, and the 


218 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 

use he had made of it — it was one he had employed 
with considerable success on former occasions. 
Now it was his turn to give himself airs, ani to 
be difficult, and Magdalen had to bring all her bat- 
teries into the field to restore him to anything like 
the semblance of good-humour. When he tool his 
leave, he for the first time forbore to put the 
invariable lover’s question, “ When shall I see you 
again?” and, as is frequently the case whei the 
man keeps a significant silence, the lady hid to 
break it. 

“ Come to luncheon to-morrow, won’t you ‘ ” she 
said, in her most gracious manner. 

“ I’ve promised to lunch with Helen,” le an- 
swered, naming a popular and fashionable hdy. 

“ Oh, throw her over,” remarked Magdalei airily. 

“ She won’t like it. And she has askec me on 
purpose to meet Lady Ida — they are trenendous 
pals.” 

“ Raison de plus,^^ laughed Magdalen ‘‘ You 
will come, won’t you ? ” 

He still demurred, and she had to use al her arts 
to persuade him. However, in the enc, he con- 
sented, and went off highly pleased wih himself, 
and quite ignorant of the anger and disgist burning 
in the heart of the fair one he was quiting. It is, 
however, possible that he would not have cared 
very much if he had known, since fie only per- 
son whom he considered or cared fi please was 
himself. 

Left alone, Magdalen fell into a stil worse frame 


OF THE WOBLI), WOBLBLY. 


219 


of mind. She was paying the penalty for having 
been happy — a penalty that is often rigidly exacted 
in life. The afternoon had been one of unalloyed 
and perfectly innocent enjoyment, and now she was 
suffering not only from reaction, but also from a 
despairing sense that these happy hours were likely 
to be but few and far between. Helvellyn had 
turned the tables upon her and she had not been 
able to wreak her vengeance upon him, and she 
felt the need of a victim. Having a legitimate 
one within reach, she was not disposed to show him 
any mercy. She and her husband dined alone to- 
gether, and had no engagement afterwards. Cap- 
tain Vernon, who was placid and good-tempered by 
nature, had an unusually silent fit, and Magdalen 
was pettish and disposed to find fault with every- 
thing and everyone. She was displeased with her 
dinner, and sent messages of disapprobation to the 
cook, and the few remarks which her husband made, 
she hastened to disagree with. Her dissatisfaction 
was so manifest that Captain Vernon presently 
looked up and remarked laconically, 

“ Anything wrong ? ” 

“ No,” she returned, snappishly, “ what should 
be wrong ? ” 

“ You don’t seem in a very happy frame of 
mind,” he said placidly. 

“ How can one be when one is bored to death,” 
she retorted. 

“ Are you bored to death? ” he asked. “ Is it I 
who bore you ? ” 


220 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ It is your friend Helvellyn.” 

“ My friend ! ” with slight accent on the pro- 
noun. 

‘‘ Yes, your friend ! ” 

“ Well, and what has my friend been doing ? ” 

“ He has not been doing anything, but he is a 
bore, and I am getting to hate the sight of him.” 

“ That is unlucky.” 

“ Why ? ” sharply. 

“ Because I do not quite know what we should 
do without him just now.” 

“ Have you been borrowing money of him ? ” 
in an angry voice, and with flashing eyes. 

“No,” returned Vernon imperturbably, “but I 
want to.” 

“ I should have thought you had had enough 
out of him lately.” 

“ I have had nothing out of him.” 

“ I should imagine,” said Magdalen, her anger 
rising, “ the visit to Monte Carlo must have cost 
him something.” 

“ It was for his own pleasure. He is a sociable 
fellow, and glad to get the company of people he 
likes. I should do the same in his place. I only 
wish the positions were reversed.” 

The contemptuous glance that his wife shot 
from under her brows was lost upon him, as he 
was intent upon his plate. 

“ And you are going to borrow money of him ? ” 
she exclaimed, in a strong crescendo. 

“I must borrow of someone,” he answered, in 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 221 

a matter-of-fact tone, “or I shall have a writ out 
against me.” 

“ You are in debt again ? ” still more erescendo, 
“I think your pretence of surprise is a little 
thrown away,” he remarked. There was no in- 
dication of ill-temper or of a wish to be disagree- 
able, either in his voice or manner — he was dis- 
passionately stating a fact. “You know how we 
live, and you know what my income is ; how can I 
keep out of debt? Do I have a brougham for my 
amusement ? do I spend a fortune in clothes ? do I 
insist on having an expensive cook, and keeping 
more servants than I can afford ? ” 

Magdalen could not reply altogether in the 
affirmative to these questions, so she said sharply, 
“ If we are living beyond our income, we had 
better retrench.” 

“By all means,” he returned imperturbably. 
“ I am afraid it will mean Boulogne, or Dresden, 
or a very small cottage in the country.” 

Magdalen was enraged by his words, but she 
hardly saw her way to venting her anger on him 
with any show of reason. She had known all 
along that they were spending far more than they 
could afford, but had been content to throw the 
responsibility upon him and to ask no questions. 
The thought of sharing a cottage with him by no 
means smiled upon her — had it been with Vivian, 
the idea would have been bearable, even romantic, 
but poverty that is so bitter, even when eked out 
with love, is intolerable without it. 


222 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

“ And how much,” she inquired icily, “ do you 
. propose to borrow from Helvellyn ? ” 

“If I don’t have five hundred within a fort- 
night,” he returned, “I shall be broke.” 

Angry despair kept her silent for a moment — 
she was thinking of the four hundred louis she 
had won and lost. She disliked Helvellyn more 
every day — to weave fresh chains round him and 
herself by increased obligations was a hateful 
thought. But the ruin that by her husband’s 
account stared them in the face was worse still. 

“ Do you know,” she asked, in a hard, bitter 
tone, “to what you expose me by borrowing of 
this man ? ” 

This time he looked up, and met her gaze full 
without the smallest sign of blenching. 

“ You are a very pretty woman,” he said, “and 
he appears to find your company very agreeable. 
You are perfectly well able to take care of your- 
self, and, as you know, I have absolute confidence 
in you.” 

She gave a mocking laugh which was not pleas- 
ing to hear. 

“ It is convenient to act the part of the ostrich 
sometimes, is it not ? ” she asked. 

He lighted a cigar with great deliberation. 

“ I do not think there is anything to be got out 
of quarrelling, or saying rude and unpleasant things. 
The best way is to work together to avert what 
will affect us botli very unpleasantly — you more 
than me. You like to go to smart houses and wear 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


223 


pretty frocks, and have everyone running after you 
— and, if I am made a bankrupt, I think you will 
have to give it all up. I have left you alone, 
and never attempted to interfere with you in any 
way.” 

“ You found that most convenient,” she sneered. 

“ I like a quiet life,” he returned, and took a 
long puff at his cigar, disappearing presently behind 
the smoke. 

“ And how do you propose to pay Helvellyn back 
the money if he lends it to you ? ” 

“ Oh, I might do it any day if I got a good tip 
racing, or, better still, on the Stock Exchange. 
You could manage it to-morrow if you chose to take 
the trouble.” 

“ Yes ? How ? ” still in the same biting tone. 

Captain Vernon continued to shelter himself 
from her merciless eyes behind his cloud wreaths. 

“ There is that fellow Redstag,” he replied, 
“would do anything to be civil to you. He could 
tell you enough to make your fortune without hurt- 
ing himself an ounce, or he could easily give you 
an allotment in this big thing he is going to bring 
out.” 

“ A dirty little German Jew ! ” she cried con- 
temptuously. 

“ On the contrary, he is remarkably clean for 
his species.” 

“ And,” with more and more scorn, “ I am to let 
him make love to me for the sake of getting money 
out of him ? ” 


224 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


“My dear girl,” remarked Vernon rising, “you 
are in a deuced bad temper, and therefore I think 
we had better put off this discussion until you feel 
better. You have chosen your own life for some 
time past, and lived it without any particular refer- 
ence to my wishes cr feelings. To you belongs all 
the credit of your social success. I have been con- 
tent to stand aside and look on. But I very much 
object to your rounding on me and trying to sug- 
gest that I connive against my own honour. I have 
told you that I trust you — if you now intend to 
imply that I have been wrong in doing so, I will 
file my petition in the Bankruptcy Court, and we 
will proceed to consider how and where we are to 
live in the future. Good-night. I am going round 
to the club. I hope you will be in a better frame of 
mind to-morrow.” 

He spoke with calmness, even with dignity, and, 
when the door closed upon him, Magdalen sat and 
stared at it with an expression almost vacuous. 
She had the most unpleasant consciousness that he 
had had the best of the argument — she meant to 
have taunted him, and covered him with shame and 
confusion, but he had simply given himself a moral 
shake like a big dog, and flung off her aspersions 
like a shower of water. 

Magdalen, who had thought she understood him, 
for the first time doubted her own perspicacity. 
Was he acting a part, or had he the confidence in 
her which he affected to have ? She sat all the 
evening trying to solve the enigma, but without 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 225 

success. In spite of herself, she felt more respect 
for him than she had done for years — he must be 
either better than she thought, or far, far worse. 
Strangely enough, in spite of her ill-temper, she 
was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. 
Looking back, she could not actually accuse him of 
having connived at anything really injurious to his 
so-called honour. He had been civil to the men 
who admired her, and he had shown no jealousy 
or suspicion — he had simply asked no questions 
and made no attempt to control her. Then she 
})roceeded to reflect how intensely disagreeable it 
would be to give up her pretty house, her smart 
friends ; all the good and pleasant things which be- 
came more valuable in her eyes from the moment 
when she realised the possibility of losing them. 
If she left London, that meant leaving Vivian, and 
this thought was a greater blow to her than even 
the other. She took refuge in bemoaning her hard 
lot and railing against fate. She was the most un- 
fortunate, the most wretched woman in the whole 
world — everything conspired to make her miserable 
— life was a burden too grievous to be borne. 
Thus it is the habit of Fortune’s spoiled darlings 
to rail and murmur when their wishes are thwarted, 
or they have to take the crumpled rose-leaf into 
consideration. The upshot of her reflections was 
that she met her husband quite pleasantly at break- 
fast, and did not attempt to renew their conversa- 
tion of the previous evening. And, when Flcdvel- 
lyn came to luncheon, she made herself more e ‘ee- 
15 


226 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


able to him than she had ever done before. He 
and her husband had a long talk about racing and 
other matters over their cigars, and parted on the 
best of terms, having made an engagement to go 
racing together. 

Magdalen cherished in her heart a delightful 
thought of the confidences she would make to Viv- 
ian, and saw in pleasing anticipation the wrathful 
blaze of his eyes at her wrongs, and the subsequent 
tenderness which his sympathy for her would bring 
to them. She liked him to have a bad opinion of 
her husband — the worse, the better. Poor Vivian ! 
how long will he go on worshipping at the clay 
feet of his idol I 


OF THE WOELD, WOELHLY, 


227 


CHAPTER XVI. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

On that same Sunday evening, Magdalen and her 
husband dined at a great house, “ to have the hon- 
our of meeting *’ some royal personages. The ban- 
quet was extremely select, and afterwards some 
fifty more guests were bidden to listen to some very 
fine music. Everything was magnificently done, 
and in spite of the weariness of the world’s vanities 
which Magdalen was of late fond of professing, 
she was highly gratified by receiving an invitation 
which every smart person in London would have 
accepted with delight. She was marked out for 
flattering notice by the royal ladies as well as their 
august husbands, and in fact enjoyed a triumph 
greater than any which had previously fallen to 
her share. She looked dazzlingly beautiful ; ex- 
citement and pleasui’e enhanced her natural gifts, 
and she had sufficient good taste to behave with 
grace and modesty under honours which would 
have turned the heads of many of her sex, more 
especially of those not born to the purple. Need- 
less to say that everyone else followed suit to the 


228 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

august lead, and Magdalen was the centre of at- 
traction next to the guests of the evening. 

Lord Helvellyn was not at the dinner, but came 
later. He had, however, to relinquish his claims on 
Mrs. Vernon to greater than himself, and so far 
from being displeased or chagrined at the fact, it 
enhanced her value a hundredfold in his eyes. He 
knew that in the smart world she was affichee to 
him, and he came to the conclusion that to have 
the reputation of enjoying her favour was worth a 
good deal, and resolved to lend Vernon the money 
which was to tide him over the expected crisis. 
Nay, more, he was in so generous a frame of mind 
that it occurred to him how the snowy whiteness 
of Magdalen’s throat would be enhanced by a string 
of pearls, and when royalty remembered the exi- 
gencies of its position and passed on to give cour- 
teous notice to other expectant subjects, he whis- 
pered the suggestion into the lady’s tiny ear. 
She smiled sweetly, and replied that a poor woman 
must be content without these valuable adornments, 
and he, waxing warmer and more generous, hinted 
at the existence of people who were not poor, and 
who would take pleasure in supplying what nig- 
gardly fortune withheld. She parried his hints 
with pretty smiles, but was fain to admit that a 
string of pearls had for years been the thing she 
most coveted. The whole evening was one of 
triumph and pleasure, she hardly even remembered 
Vivian’s existence, and when her husband remarked 
during their drive home that life, under the cir- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


229 


cumstances which they had seen it this evening, 
was a good deal pleasanter than it would be under 
the influence of ruin and bankruptcy, she con- 
curred in the most cordial manner. 

When he was furthermore emboldened to tell 
her that Helvellyn was going to pose as their Beus 
ex machina she responded that he really was a good 
fellow, and that she regretted having spoken 
harshly of him. She went to bed triumphant and 
happy, well aware of the beneficial effect that her 
social success of to-night would have for her in the 
smart world, and slept the sleep of health and 
innocence. 

In the paper next morning she read the dates 
fixed for the Drawing-rooms, and determined to 
attend the first. That would involve a very ex- 
pensive dress, but as she was quite sure after last 
night of being asked to all the functions of the 
season, new and elegant apparel would be abso- 
lutely necessary. On the strength of having paid 
Kate Chiffon the hundred won at Kempton, she 
would be able to go and give further orders. As 
she was about to start on this delightful errand, 
the woman was announced, who, like herself, had 
been engaged in the study of natural history on 
the previous Saturday. 

“ You are going out ? ” said the visitor, as Mag- 
dalen entered the room in walking costume. 
“ Shall I give you a lift ? I have the brougham 
here.” 

“ Oh, thanks, very much,” Magdalen replied. 


230 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


“ but I am only going round to Kate Chiffon’s to 
see about a dress for the Drawing-room.” 

“ I will come too,” replied the other ; “ it is the 
very thing I want to do myself. Let us start at 
once.” Then, with a faint blush, approaching 
Magdalen and putting her hand on her arm, she 
said, “ Of course I know you won’t, but I thought 
I would just run in and ask you not to say anything 
to anyone about having met me on Saturday.” 

“ Of course I will not,” she replied cordially. 

“ It might make unpleasantness,” said the other, 
“ and really life is quite disagreeable enough as it 
is. By the way, what a very good-looking man 
that was with you ! Who is he ? I never remem- 
ber to have seen him.” 

Magdalen had all the inherent snobbishness 
which induces people to desire, for their own 
vanity’s sake, to make the best of their acquaint- 
ances, so she hastened to explain what Vivian’s 
former position had been, and how it was sacrificed 
to his father’s extravagance. 

“ But why does he not go about ? ” enquired her 
friend. “ In these days it does not matter two 
straws what a man’s occupation is. He would be 
an addition to any society. I don’t know when I 
have been so struck with anyone.” 

This was a further sop to Magdalen’s vanity. 

“ He hates society,” she observed, with secret 
pride, “ it bores him to death ; he is not like other 
people.” 

“ I think you are very much to be envied,” said 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 231 

her friend meaningly. “ I saw by his manner that 
he worships you.” 

It was Magdalen’s turn to blush. 

“ Oh,” she said, “we, are very old friends — quite 
like brother and sister.” 

The other laughed lightly. 

“ Well ! ” she said, “such a handsome brother is 
a decided acquisition, and perhaps it is as well to 
keep him in the home circle. By the way, my 
dear, I just looked in at Lady Dash’s, and she told 
me you had a succ^sfou last night.” 

“ Everyone was extremely kind,” answered Mag- 
dalen modestly. 

And then they entered the brougham, and soon 
forgot everything else in the entrancing interest of 
brocades and velvets and laces. 

Magdalen hadiully intended to write a pathetic 
letter to Vivian,®dding him come to her that she 
might pour into his ears a great trouble that had 
just befallen her, but she was so occupied for the 
next two or three days with worldly matters that 
her need for sympathy fell into abeyance. She 
was in such good spirits, and so well pleased with 
herself and eveifBne else that her grievance only 
inspired her with a lukewarm interest instead of 
the passionate absorption of Saturday evening. 

The world was going very well now — invitations 
were pouring in upon her, and every afternoon, 
when she came in, she found the hall table covered 
with cards bearing distinguished and fashionable 
names. They were going somewhere every night 


232 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


this week, and there was so much to be done about 
matters of toilettes, writing notes, and other im- 
portant things, that she had absolutely no time to 
receive anyone except Helvellyn occasionally — for, 
since he was the benefactor who was to save her 
husband from ruin, the least she could do was to 
show him a little civility now and then. Her 
heart-hunger had to be laid aside for the moment 
whilst she ministered to more pressing needs. 

Meanwhile, Vivian was growing more restless 
and unhappy every day. He could no longer take 
any interest or pleasure in his business — the image 
of Magdalen came before him at every moment — 
he remembered the happiness he had felt in her 
society, and contrasted it with the blankness of 
life without her. He was dissatisfied with him- 
self, which added to his unhap^iess — in all con- 
cerns of his life hitherto when he had seen the 
right he had braced himself to do it at whatever 
cost, but to leave her, not to see her again, would 
indeed be as the plucking out of his right eye. 
He was still so sure of himself that he did not fear 
harm or wrong would come kut he fully 

recognised that there could T)e no happiness for 
either of them. He was surprised and pained not 
to hear from her as the days went on, the overtures 
about future meetings had always came from her 
and she had never before been so long without 
making any sign. 

It was towards the and of the week after that 
delightful Saturday at the Zoo that he went to dine 


OF THE WOBLH, WORLDLY, 233 

with Anthony Courtland, who had returned from 
the South two days previously. Vivian looked for- 
ward eagerly to this evening ; he would at least be 
able to hear of Magdalen from his friend. But he 
was destined to get cold comfort from Anthony, 
who was more inimical than ever to Mrs. Vernon. 
He had seen Stella and had remarked a change in 
her, a pallor, a mournful expression in the eyes 
which had not been there before. He had heard 
too from Athene of the questions she had asked 
about Vivian and Mrs. Vernon. 

Anthony had no intention of broaching the sub- 
ject to Vivian — he would have very much pre- 
ferred to avoid it, but if Vivian insisted in discuss- 
ing Mrs. Vernon he intended to speak frankly, and 
plainly. This infatuation was doing a great deal 
of harm to the friend of his boyhood, and though 
he never for one moment hoped or expected to 
cure him of it, knowing as he did how obstinately 
men as well as women cling to their .belief in their 
idol of the hour, still he felt it his bounden duty to 
answer any questions that were ^put to him in an 
absolutely truthful spjrit. 

The moment he looked in Vivian’s face, he saw 
the change and felt additionally incensed against 
the woman who had wrought it. Of belief in or 
sympathy for her he had not one grain — he looked 
upon her as a vain, selfish, heartless woman, who 
would sacrifice anyone to her vanity and pleasure 
without scruple or remorse. 

During the first part of dinner, Vivian was ab- 


234 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

sent and distraite ; no\!^?alking spasmodically, now 
falling into fifs of silence. He was, in fact, burn- 
ing to speak of the subject next his heart and 
doing violence to himself by exercising self- 
restraint. When the servant was gone and they 
were left alone, he could no longer control him- 
self. 


“ Now, Tony,” he exclaimed, affecting a cheerful 
and unconcerned air, “ tell me all about Monte 
Carlo.” 

There is not much to tell,” answered An- 
thony, “ it is the same monotonous round day after 
day. Just at first the novelty is pleasing, and the 
place is lovely when the sun shines, but I got 
heartily tired of it in a fortnight and was as home- 
sick for these dear cosey old rooms as any school- 
boy.” 

“ Did you win your money?” enquired Vivian. 

“Yes, the only time I played. I had a com- 
mission from N to put on a talent and his tal- 

ent gained four talents, and he is highly delighted, 
but rather regrets that I did not go on, as I was in 
the vein. It is always the same — le mieux est 
Vennemi du hien,’’^ 

Vivian had intended to lead up in an artful and 
diplomatic way to the burning subject; but he 
could not do it, and he blurted out, 

“ And so Mrs. Vernon was there, and I am told 
you and she were constantly together. Are you, 
too,” forcing a laugh, “ a victim ? ” 

“ Oh,” said Anthony, “ I was only an occasional 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLJDLY. 


235 


pis oiler. I do not think the lady loves me very 
much in her secret heart.” 

“ Indeed you are quite wrong,” protested Vivian, 
with more eagerness than the occasion seemed to 
warrant, “ she thinks an immense deal of you, and 
could not say enough in your praise.” 

“ That is very good of her,” returned Anthony 
drily ; “ but I have a shrewd suspicion that there 
is more fear than love in her regard for me.” 

“ Fear ! ” exclaimed Vivian, in a nettled tone. 
“ What do you mean ? Why should she fear 
you ? ” 

“People,” replied Anthony sententiously and 
imprudently, for he had not intended to betray his 
animus so early in the debate, “ are always a little 
afraid of those whom they suspect of seeing through 
them.” 

“ And what is there to see through ? ” cried 
Vivian, with growing displeasure. “ It is not like 
you, Tony, to be uncharitable, especially to a 
woman, and a very heavily handicapped one too.” 

Anthony paused for a moment to take counsel 
with himself, and made up his mind to strike, and 
to strike hard. He hated to give Vivian pain — he 
hated the thought that he was going to make his 
friend look upon him with coldness and suspicion, 
but it had to be done. 

“ Do you remember,” he asked presently, “ the 
first talk that you and I had here about the Vernon 
mSnage .^” 

“ Yes,” returned Vivian, with a hostile air, and 


236 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

preparing to give battle, “ perfectly. I did not 
know how she was circumstanced then, and I was 
extremely unjust.” 

“ You were not at all unjust,” Anthony an- 
swered firmly. “Your conclusions were perfectly 
just, if a trifle hard, and what every other honour- 
able man would have come to.” 

“ Then you are condemning yourself ; for, if 
you remember, on that occasion you defended her 
most warmly, and begged me not to judge her 
harshly, but to go and see for myself.” 

“ Quite true,” said Anthony, with a smile. 
“ But then I was under the spell of her charm, and 
did not see quite clearly, but now I have had the 
most thorough and complete opportunity for form- 
ing my judgment, and my eyes are as wide open 
as yours were then. Now, dear old chap, you know 
me pretty well. I think, whatever my short-com- 
ings may be, you’ll give me credit for not being 
spiteful or liking to give pain. Don’t quarrel 
with me — take what I am going to say in good 
part even if it hurts you, and I know well enough 
that it will. Do you think I don’t see and have 
not seen all along how matters stand ? Are you 
the first man who has been beguiled by a beautiful 
woman ? I see you on the way to wreck your 
happiness, and I can’t stand by and let you do it 
without a struggle.” 

“ Very good of you,” returned Vivian, “ but I 
don’t quite see what my happiness has to do 
with your uncharitable opinion of Mrs. Vernon. I 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 237 

daresay you have seen a great deal of her, and have 
heard a great deal of malicious and envious talk 
about her — perhaps, as I hear you are such friends, 
you have imbibed Lady Hilldown’s opinions. I 
believe she is not given to be very charitable.” 

“ I go by facts,” returned Anthony quietly, not 
caring to raise a side issue. “ I will do one of two 
things, whichever you choose. I will tell you the 
truth, as I know and believe it, about Mrs. Ver- 
non, or I will never mention her name to you 
again for good or ill.” 

“Oh, say on! ” said Vivian, with a petulant 
bitterness quite foreign to him ; “ proceed with 
your indictment.” 

“ I don’t want to make any indictment,” re- 
turned Anthony kindly. “ A woman who is as 
beautiful as Mrs. Vernon is bound to be surrounded 
by temptations. I do not condemn her for liking 
the pleasant things of life, but I do not wish her 
to pose as a martyr to you (I don’t care what she 
does to others) when she is really following the 
bent of her own inclinations. What her husband 
may be, I do not know, whether fool or knave or 
a little of both, but he is certainly not a bully, and 
she does precisely as she chooses without the 
smallest reference to him. He is emphatically the 
husband of Mrs. Vernon.” 

“ Oh I ” interrupted Vivian, chafing with uncon- 
trollable irritation, “you have gone over to his 
side?” 

“ Nothing of the sort. I only want to give the 


238 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

devil his due, if we may call so mild-mannered a 
person by so harsh a name. I have no doubt he 
likes an easy life and is not particularly scrupu- 
lous how he attains it, but he is not one of those 
villains one reads of who terrifies his trembling 
victim into becoming a decoy. He and his wife 
were at Monte Carlo as Helvellyn’s guests, she 
admitted this to me herself, and there were two 
other persons of the party who did not add to its 
respectability. Helvellyn and Mrs. Vernon were 
always together and spent a good deal of time at 
the tables, she generally playing and he supplying 
the wherewithal. She seemed perfectly happy 
and contented except when she lost, and at these 
moments I wished very heartily for your own sake 
that you could have been there to see her.” 

Anthony ceased, and Vivian sat staring straight 
before him without saying a word. He was suf- 
fering acutely, — even though he would not believe 
all that his friend suggested, he knew that Anthony 
was not a man who would tell a lie or even exag- 
gerate at a moment like the present. Besides, 
what motive could he have ? Of Anthony’s little 
plot for marrying him to Stella, he had not the 
smallest suspicion. Oh, the intolerable smart of 
being forced to think ill of this lovely and beloved 
woman ! How could he find it in his heart to 
doubt her, with the remembrance of Saturday fresh 
in his mind ? and yet the picture which Anthony 
had drawn was one that filled him with disapproval 
and repugnance. Yes! the dream was over; he 


OF THE WOBLB, WOBLDLY. 


239 


must give up all thought of her, and how bitter 
this would be he realised to the full. He remem- 
bered the poet’s words : 


“ There is no joy that life can give, 

Like that it takes away.” 

We never know how dear a thing is until we 
have lost it. 

Anthony rose and busied himself about the room ; 
opened the drawers of his writing-table as if search- 
ing for something ; unlocked his cigar cabinet and 
took out some cigars, and finally wheeled two arm- 
chairs up to the fire. 

“ Come and sit here,” he said gently ; and 
Vivian obeyed in silence. 

Mechanically he took the cigar offered to him, 
lighted it, but he was still lost in bitter refiections, 
and sat on for a time in silence. Anthony did not 
interrupt him, — ^lie was grieved to the heart at 
having given him this pain, but it had been a duty 
he owed to friendship. 

At last Vivian spoke. 

“ Tony,” he said, “ I know you would not hurt 
me or anyone else willingly, but will you swear to 
me that you have not exaggerated, not set down 
aught in malice ? ” 

“It is the other way,” replied Anthony, in a 
troubled voice. 

“ You mean to say,” and Vivian fixed him with his 
eyes, “ that she was always about alone witli — with 
this fellow, and that she habitually gambled ? ” 


240 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 

“ I do. On the night when she won the four 
hundred louis she was sitting at the table rubbing 
shoulders with a woman of the demi-monde^ even 
speaking to her — ^she was utterly lost to eveiy 
thought or consideration but the greed of gam- 
bling.” 

Vivian uttered a sigh that came from the depths 
of his heart. 

“ My God ! ” he said. It was an exceeding bitter 
cry wrung from his agony. 

“ And do you suppose,” he went on, after a long 
pause, “ that she — cares for Helvellyn ? ” 

“ No,” answered Anthony promptly. “ I think, 
if anything, she dislikes him; but she is of the 
world, worldly, and he ministers to her vanity and 
love of pleasure, therefore she tolerates and en- 
courages him.” 

“But you say she seemed quite happy with 
him?” 

“ She was always smiling, if that is any indica- 
tion, except on one occasion, when they quarrelled ; 
and then she was very angry and bitter against 
him.” 

“ Do you know what the quarrel was about ? ” 

“ He had been bullying a waiter, and she got up 
and left the table, and after that there was a scene 
between them, and she threatened to return to 
England. But next day they were better friends 
than ever, and in the evening she made her coup 
at the tables.” 

“ And who,” asked Vivian in a hard, strained 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


241 


voice, “ were the members of the party of whom 
you spoke ? ” 

“ Lady Benet, who, whatever her rank and 
position, is not fit company for any woman who 
respects herself, and Fairbank, whom you may re- 
member at Eton. He is thoroughly noisy and 
rowdy, and at dinner of a night everyone’s attention 
was attracted to the party by the way he and Lady 
Benet went on, to say nothing of Helvellyn, who 
talked loud and found fault with the waiters, and 
made himself obnoxious generally. I will do Mis. 
Vernon the justice to say that I think she was 
ashamed of and thoroughly uncomfortable at their 
behaviour, still she submitted to it night after 
night with the one exception of which I have told 
you.” 

Hope was extinct in Vivian’s heart. The 
woman who could do and endure what Anthony 
described was not the Magdalen of his heart and 
dreams. He had thought he knew her, knew the 
good underlying the crust of vanity and worldli- 
ness ; but no ! he had deceived himself — he would 
not say that she had deceived him. 

16 


242 


OF THE WOMLDy WORLDLY, 


CHAPTER XVII. 

FKOM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Another long silence, whilst both men smoked 
and stared at the fire. At last Anthony leaned 
forward and laid his hand on his friend’s knee. 

“Be a man, dear old boy ! it is a bitter pill, I 
know, but you have always made such a brave fight 
up to now, and this would be the very worst thing 
you could give in to.” 

“ Do you suppose,” exclaimed Vivian, with flash- 
ing eyes, “ that I have ever had a wrong thought 
about her ? ” 

“ No,” answered Anthony heartily, “ I do not. 
But the devil has his own way of arranging these 
things, and nine times out of ten when a man 
thinks himself most secure, he is nearest his fall. 
Bear with me whilst I say something else. I be- 
lieve Mrs. Vernon is attached to you. I go so far 
as to think that whatever heart she may have is 
given to you. I am persuaded that she has tried 
and is trying to make you love her, and that she 
would take the keenest pleasure in forcing you to 
confess your passion.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 243 

Vivian waved his hand with a gesture of strong 
dissent. 

“Well!” uttered Anthony, “please God the 
time may not come when you discover for yourself 
the truth of my words — break with her before it 
has a chance of coming. I know you well enough 
to gauge what your remorse and self-condemnation 
would be if you yielded to temptation and forgot 
your honour. And, however strong you may be- 
lieve yourself, no man is a match for his passions 
when they get out of leash.” 

“If you think ” began Vivian hotly, but 

Anthony interrupted him. 

“ I don’t think anything, dear old boy, except 
that you are the best and bravest fellow I have 
ever known, and I only say, ‘ Don’t give yourself 
a chance. Keep away from her, if you ever want 
to be happy again.’ ” 

They said no more about Mrs. Vernon, but their 
conversation was forced and disjointed, and it was 
a relief to both when the evening came to an end. 
Vivian walked home with a heavy heart. Yes — 
his mind was made up — he was going to turn his 
back forever on the happiness which had but just 
dawned upon his life — there was no more sunshine ; 
the way was no longer strewn with flowers, that 
lovely prospect was behind him — it was as though 
he were about to enter a gloomy cavern, leaving a 
gay, bright world at the entrance. No more joy ; 
no more rapt contemplation of the loveliness that 
was .so perfect in his eyes ; no more little twining 


244 OF THE WORLD , WORLDLY . 

arms and sweet kisses from baby lips — there was 
only one thing for it, if he did not want to break 
his heart outright with longing for what could 
never be — he must keep away, and see her no 
more. It was in accordance with the usual humour 
of Fate that, having with many a sigh come to this 
absolute and final determination, he should on 
reaching his rooms find on his table the following 
note : 

“ My dear Vivian, 

“ What has become of you ? Why 
have you not been to see me, — not even written to 
me ? ” (Magdalen, after the manner of her sex, 
feeling conscious of having neglected him, sought 
to put the blame on him.) ‘‘ I do want to see you 
so very much. I have something particular to say 
to you. Please come to-morrow. Will four suit 
you ? I shall be at home all the afternoon. Let 
me have a wire in the morning. 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“ Magdalen Vernon.” 

As he read, all his brave resolutions crumbled 
into dust. Yes, he would go — would go for the 
last time, would bring his indictment against her ; 
would hear what she had to say (surely that was 
but fair), and after that he would go his own sad, 
pleasureless way, and leave her to the joys of 
the world which were so dear to her. By the sud- 
den light which filled his heart at the prospect of 
being with her once m®re, though it were only to 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 246 

bid her farewell forever, he ought to have known 
his danger. But he either did not or would not 
see it — his heart was only conscious of the joy of 
reprieve, were it but for twenty-four hours. The 
first thing next morning he sent her a telegram 
saying he would call at five, and Magdalen re- 
ceived it with keen satisfaction. She had been 
doing duty (save the mark !) all the week, and 
now she was going to be happy and to enjoy her- 
self. She was in excellent spirits — no prescience 
of Vivian’s intentions towards her crossed her mind ; 
she thought she had made it all right with him 
about Monte Carlo, and that the subject was dead 
and buried, never to be revived. She was in her 
brightest mood. She arrayed herself in her most 
becoming frock — she wanted to be made love to ; 
she was determined to exercise her most potent 
fascinations upon him. She forgot all about the 
confidences which, a week ago, she had longed to 
pour into his sympathetic ear — the world was a 
delightful place — there was not a trace of pes- 
simism in her thoughts. 

As he entered the room she went towards him, 
both hands outstretched, with the warmest light of 
welcome in her lovely eyes ; and the consciousness 
of how altogether fair and desirable she was, smote 
him with a sharp pang. In an instant, with her 
woman’s quick perception, she recognised that there 
was something wi’ong — he had heard something, 
and her thoughts flew to Anthony Courtland, who 
she knew was back in London. 


246 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 

“ Why, Vivian,” she said brightly, “ what is the 
matter ? ” And then, in her most caressing voice. 

Are you not glad to see me ? It seems a month 
since last Saturday, and I am so, so glad to see 
you.” 

Ah ! how sweet was the poison — for poison he 
knew it to be — but he thought he would have 
drunk it to the dregs if it would only kill him then 
and there. He could find no words — he was think- 
ing of the awful loss that he would sustain when 
he had bidden her this last farewell. The bright- 
ness died out of Magdalen’s face ; she assumed a 
pensive air as she seated herself amongst her 
cushions, and motioned him to sit beside her. 

“ What is it ? ” she said. “ I was looking for- 
ward so much to seeing you, and now all my pleas- 
ure is gone — I read in your face that you are go- 
ing to scold me. What have I done ? ” 

He stood “ staring and stammering” — he had 
not obeyed her gesture. 

“ I have come to bid you good-bye,” he said 
sorrowfully. 

He had no heart to blame or to find fault with 
her ; he was conscious of a weak desire to forgive 
her everything, to think that he believed in her, 
or, if he did not, that it was no matter. She was 
too delicate, too lovely to be judged by the stand- 
ard of other women. 

Magdalen turned pale. 

“ To wish me good-bye?” she repeated, and her 
voice trembled. “ Oh, Vivian ! ” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 247 

She put out her hand to him ; he took it mechan- 
ically, and seated himself beside her. 

“ You have seen Mr. Courtland,” she said. “ Do 
not deny it. He has told you something that has 
prejudiced you against me.” 

He looked at her in a forlorn, hopeless sort of 
manner. Prejudiced against her ! — that was the 
worst of it ; no matter what she had done, he could 
not find it in his heart to censure her, any more 
than he could have treated her little daughter with 
severity. 

“ Why should I judge or blame ? ” he said. “ I 
have no right — indeed I have no wish, but you and 
I live in different worlds — our ideas are not the 
same — it hurts me to know that ” 

He broke off, and forced a smile. 

“It is for my own sake that I wish to say 
good-bye.” 

“ But I cannot, I will not say good-bye,” she 
answered, a flush coming to her cheek. “ You are 
the only friend I have. Oh, Vivian, for the sake 
of old times, do not leave me.” 

A yearning tenderness came into his eyes. 

“ Tell me,” she said, “ have you seen Mr. Court- 
land?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “I dined with him last 
night.” 

“ Oh ! ” she uttered, and then paused. “ I have 
always had a conviction that he did not like me — 
that he disapproved of me. Of course he can only 
judge from what he sees — ^how can he know the 


248 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

secrets of my heart and what I suffer. I can guess 
what he told you — that I was always with Lord 
Helvellyn at Monte Carlo — that I gambled? ” 

He did not contradict her. 

Her mind reverted to that evening just a week 
ago when she had resolved to tell her story to 
Vivian her own way. She would do it now. Her 
voice trembled ; she looked at him with humid 
eyes. 

“ I do not care what Mr. Courtland thinks — I do 
not care how the world judges me, but, oh, Vivian, 
if you condemn me, it will break my heart. Listen 
to me, and I do not think you will be hard on me. 
I am weak, I am not brave and strong like you, 
and if I wish to be, I have no one to help me — no 
one but you. It is a miserable story, but I shall 
tell it you. I would not have gone to Monte Carlo 
but for the pressure put upon me by my husband. 
He owed money to Helvellyn, and he persuaded 
me that it would be madness to offend him by re- 
fusing. A few months since, I should not have 
hesitated, but,” fixing her eyes on him, “ since you 
have come into my life again, things look quite 
different to me, and I hated to go because I knew 
it would vex you. All the time I was there I was 
wretched. I detested all three of the people I 
went with. Their manners and behaviour shocked 
me at every turn. I had to be civil to Helvellyn 
simply from fear of offending him, and then I was 
silly enough to have a wild hope that if I could 
only win money at the tables, I could shake him 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 249 

off. I did win a lot of money one night, and 
wanted to come away with it the very next day, 
but both he and my husband dissuaded me, and 
made me believe that I might have a run of luck, 
and break the bank. Of course I lost all my win- 
nings — one always does when money is a matter of 
vital importance to one. I got to hate the very 
sight of Helvellyn, and, last Saturday, my feelings 
about him reached a climax. I had spent such a 
happy afternoon — whatever happens, I shall never 
forget that — it was all so pleasant, so innocent — it 
seemed as if you belonged to our lives and had al- 
ways been in them. I forgot everything painful, 
forgot the world and its vanity and heartlessness, 
and was as happy as in those dear old days.” 

Her voice trembled, she turned her face away 
from him, but stole one slim, white hand towards 
him, as if in mute appeal for sympathy and com- 
fort. He took it reverently — his heart was melting 
fast — the impression created by Anthony’s words 
was becoming effaced as the tide obliterates foot- 
prints in the sand — the yearning to think well of 
her again possessed his heart. She knew by the 
tender clasp of his hand that he was relenting, and 
she went on with renewed pathos : 

“ You remember that I was called away to Lady 

G . Some time afterwards Helvellyn came 

in. He is not generous-minded, he does not know 
what delicacy of feeling means, and he showed me 
by his manner thai he considered he had a right 
to treat me with familiarity.” 


250 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

By the tightening of Vivian’s clasp, she Knew 
that her words were taking effect. 

“ I think,” she went on, “ I felt it all the more 
because I could not help contrasting him in my 
mind with you. At all events, I found him insuf- 
ferable, and that evening at dinner I told my hus- 
band that I detested him and would not have him 
here any more.” 

She paused. Vivian listened with breathless 
interest, still pressing her hand, but with no other 
feeling than the tenderest sympathy. 

“ Well ? ” he uttered, in a low voice. 

“ I don’t know how to tell you,” she answered, 
hiding her face in the cushions, “ it is all so degrad- 
ing. I am a miserable coward, if I have no one to 
lean on I cannot stand alone.” 

Ah! how poor deluded Vivian longed to be her 
rock of defence and stronghold! She heard the 
deep responsive sigh that he unconsciously uttered, 
and took fresh courage — her victory was going to 
be an easy one, she knew. 

“ My husband told me that we were on the brink 
of ruin ; that, if he did not get a large sum of 
money in a week’s time, he must go through the 
Bankruptcy Court. I suppose I ought to have 
known,” proceeded Magdalen penitently, that we 
were living beyond our income, but I have never 
had anything to do with money matters. I do not 
understand them. He said that Helvellyn was the 
phly person who could or would help him, and that 
if I did hot want to be turned out of my home witli 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


251 


my children,” (this little piece of embroidery was 
for Vivian’s especial benefit), “ I must go on being 
civil to him. I got angry. I asked him if he knew 
to what he was exposing me, but he made light 
of it and said that I was quite well able to take 
care of myself. He even wanted me to make up 
to a horrid Jew who he said had taken a fancy to 
me, and whom I might worm secrets out of about 
the Stock Exchange.” 

She ceased, and buried her face still deeper in 
the amber cushions. Vivian thought she was cry- 
ing. He fancied he had never known what pain 
was until this moment when he saw this beloved 
head abased ; the woman, who was more to him 
than the whole world, threatened with ruin and 
degradation. If he had possessed money, would 
he not have poured it into her lap without hope or 
thought of return — would he not gladly have given 
it into the greedy clutches of the despicable wretch, 
her husband, who was not worthy the name of a 
man ! But he had not a hundred pounds in the 
world, and there was no source from which he could 
obtain it. 

“ He sat staring at the back of that dainty Greek 
head, longing with an overmastering desire to 
gather Magdalen to his heart and soothe and com- 
fort her. For need it be said that he believed 
this distress to come genuinely from her very soul, 
and could have found it easier to cut off his right 
hand than to think she was deluding him with a 
piece of clever acting, and even smiling to herself 


252 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


amongst the cushions at her success. She had an 
intuition of what he was feeling, and was impatient 
with him for the self-control which it cost him so 
much to exercise. She acknowledged his supe- 
riority to other men, but would fain have had him 
a little more like them. Vivian longed to turn her 
face to his, to see the tears that he felt sure were 
in her eyes, perhaps to kiss them away. But all 
the chivaliy of his nature was aroused — should he 
be the one to take advantage of her weakness, her 
humiliation ! He still kept the little hand in his, 
and he raised it to his lips with as much reverence 
as though she were the greatest saint on earth. 
And at this moment she was in his eyes. 

“ Oh,” he uttered in a concentrated voice, wrung 
from him by deepest pain, “ if I could only help 
you ! ” 

But Magdalen had not the smallest desire to 
take money from him — of such a thought or wish 
she was entirely guiltless — she knew he was not 
well-off, and had no idea of invoking his sympathy 
for her pecuniary benefit. She wanted to keep him 
as friend and lover, and would infinitely rather the 
tax should be levied on Helvellyn’s purse than his. 
She turned her face to him. It was very pathetic 
and sorrowful, but the tears which he had divined 
were not there. 

“ You can help me,” she said. “ Oh, Vivian, 
you do not guess what comfort and happiness you 
give me when you are kind to me, when you let 
me feel that you believe in me. It takes me back 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 253 

across all these years to the dear old times, and I 
still feel as if I belong to you and we were going 
to live our lives together.” 

Was he ice, to withstand the look with wliich 
she accompanied those tender words ? Nay, the 
fire was in his heart, raging like a volcano, and he 
was restraining and repressing it with a superhuman 
effort, thinking all the time, in the innocence of 
his heart, that she did not know how she was try- 
ing him. She went on, remorselessly adding fuel 
to the flames, 

‘‘ If you knew,” she said, with deep pathos, 
“ how you hurt me every time that you come to 
me with these dreadful suspicions, you would 
spare me. And I was so happy this afternoon, 
just because I was going to see you — I had for- 
gotten all my troubles for the time, and thought 
we were going to have an afternoon like last Satur- 
day,” sighing. “ And now I feel as if I could 
never be happy again.” 

Vivian’s heart was torn by remorse : he felt him- 
self the greatest brute on earth. It is really 
amazing to think how a man’s strength bows like 
the slenderest reed before a woman’s weakness. 
Oh, misguided women who clamour for your 
rights ! oh, shrieking sisterhood ! could it only be 
given you to know what infinitely more potent 
factors are your wrongs ! Why, the world would 
be under one vast system of petticoat government, 
for you would know the surest and easiest road to 
men’s hearts. Magdalen knew it and practised it 


254 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

with the most excellent effect — ^it may be con- 
jectured that she had employed the weapon before 
to-day. She had, however, never used it with 
more skill nor greater effect. 

“ Oh,” she murmured, laying the other hand on 
the one which held hers, “ do pity me ! do be kind 
to me ! Do not be influenced against me by the 
stories other people are so glad to tell you about 
me. I cannot think why I should have enemies — 
I who have never willingly hurt or injured any- 
one — and yet I have. Even Mr. Courtland is my 
enemy.” 

“ No, no, indeed I ” cried Vivian, anxious to de- 
fend his friend as well as to reassure her, “ you 
must not think that of Anthony — there is no better 
friend in the world.” 

“Not to me,” said Magdalen sorrowfully. 

“ You see,” he said, “ he was not behind the 
scenes. He did not know or suspect for a moment 
what you have told me — if he had, no one would 
sympathise with your unhappy position more than 
he. He can only judge as the world judges, and 
when he saw you always about with Helvellyn, 
smiling and looking happy and playing at the 
tables, he thought ” 

Vivian stopped, and did not reveal Anthony’s 
supposed thoughts. 

“ Never mind,” said Magdalen gently, “ it does 
not matter — it is part of my trial that I should be 
misjudged. And do not tell him the truth, it would 
only humiliate me. Promise me not to tell him.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 255 

Vivian hesitated. He was burning to confront 
Anthony with his new knowledge — to prove to 
him how false had been his deductions. 

“ I do not want anyone to know but you,” she 
said impressively. Then, with a happy after- 
thought, “ It would not do me much good, and it 
would make people think so badly of my husband. 
And after all,” pathetically, “ he is my husband.” 

At this moment there was nothing wanting in 
her to Vivian’s conception of an angel except the 
wings. He could not find it in his heart to utter 
one word before her of the loathing and condem- 
nation he felt for her unworthy lord. 

“ Oh,” she said, still with her eyes on his, “ keep 
to me through evil report and good report and I 
can bear anything.” 

Did St. Anthony ever pass through such an 
ordeal as this ! were his pulses glowing with hot 
life, and had he to listen whilst the most beautiful, 
the most beloved woman on earth invoked his 
sympathy ! Physical feeling alone could not have 
made the temptation half so strong. 

Magdalen was part triumphant, part disappointed. 
No French novel ever held a more promising sit- 
uation and yet it was doomed to barrenness, be- 
cause, whatever the hero might feel, and Magdalen 
could gauge his emotions clearly enough, he was 
not to be induced to speak. 

Certainly Vivian had not practised self-conquest 
all these years for nothing. 

She gave it up in despair. The climax had 


256 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


come ; she could invoke no higher flights of chiv- 
alrous thought, no deeper depths of tender com- 
passion — the ball was at his feet, and he allowed 
it to roll away again of its own accord. Still she 
had gained a great deal — he believed in her more 
than ever — he was more than ever her friend. 
Further words, further explanations might only 
impair the effect of what had gone before, and she 
presently suggested a visit to the nursery. It was a 
relief to Vivian — the tension had been almost more 
than his nerves could endure, and he acquiesced 
gladly. The game of romps did him all the good in 
the world ; changed the current of his thoughts and 
made him master of himself once more. Then came 
the repetition of last week’s tea-drinking, and this 
time Magdalen did not forget to send word that she 
was not at home. The party, however, had to 
break up early, as Vivian had another Saturday to 
Monday engagement and was obliged to leave to 
catch his train. After that, Magdalen consented 
to. receive two or three late callers. 

As Vivian was whirled away in a swift hansom, 
he was as one transformed — the light of happiness 
was in his eyes, his heart was full of the pure and 
loving emotions with which the sight of Magdalen 
with her children about her always inspired him. 
And he had not bidden farewell to happiness — her 
doors had not closed upon him for the last time 
as when he entered he had believed they would — 
he was more than ever her friend — every thought 
of his brain, every energy of his heart should be di- 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLBLY. 257 

rected towards helping her. Ah ! my poor Vivian, 
the long happy vista lengthens at every moment 
before your eyes — ^how should you guess that those 
doors will open to you only once more, and then 
“ never again forever ” ? 

17 


258 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLBLY, 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

Vivian said not a word to Anthony of his inter- 
view with Mrs. Vernon, and the latter fondly hoped 
that the revelations which, with the best intentions, 
he had made to his friend had not been without 
result. I believe he went so far as to plume him- 
self somewhat in conversation with Athene on his 
success, but she gently shook her head. 

“ My dear,” she said, “ you have told him your 
story, he will repeat it to her, and then she will 
tell hers. I do not want to throw cold water on 
your satisfaction, but I have had more experience 
than you, as, indeed,” smiling, “I am bound to 
have had, and I know that when we are told two 
stories, one of which we ardently long to believe, 
and the other which to give credit to is madness 
and misery, I know which we are likely to end by 
accepting. Nothing that anyone can say will cure 
Vivian of his infatuation, it must be something 
that she will do. Take courage, Anthony, she will 
do it and before very long. I am told she had an 
extraordinary success last Sunday night at that 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


259 


famous party ; that since then Lord Helvellyn is 
more devoted than ever ; she wil) now be caressed 
and flattered by everyone, and will probably hardly 
have time to think of Vivian at all. Be comforted ; 
things will right themselves, and Vivian will be 
saved, but it will not be by anything that you, I, or 
anyone else may say to him.” 

Magdalen was living in a whirl of delightful 
excitement. She had the congenial occupation of 
ordering and trying on pretty things, she was bid- 
den to lunch and dine in smart cheery houses every 
day of her life, and she had never been so flattered 
and caressed before. Parliament was sitting. 
London was very full for the time of year, and 
there was a good deal going on. Where she went 
Helvellyn was asked as a matter of course, — the 
greatest ladies, some of them of unimpeachable 
character, did not dream of inviting one without 
the other. They met daily ; sometimes twice daily, 
though rarely in Magdalen’s own house, and at this 
she rejoiced, for though she looked upon him as a 
bore in private, and took no manner of pleasure im. 
his company, he added greatly to her fashion and 
lustre in the world, and she was only too glad to 
have him perpetually in her train. He did not 
complain of this arrangement, he was satisfied with 
knowing that society ascribed to him the position 
of beauty’s favoured lover, and had the choice been 
given him would probably have preferred the repu- 
tation, so that it was widely spread enough, to the 
reality, were the condition of secrecy imposed upon 


260 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


it. He was hand and glove with Vernon ; and had 
cheerfully lent him the money necessary to his 
salvation, and had not gone back, even in thought, 
upon the proposed gift of pearls to Magdalen. It 
was gratifying to him to know that when they 
appeared on her white throat, everyone would guess 
where they came from. She would be as much 
affichSe as the heroine in Zola’s novel, who wore 
the dog-collar inscribed with the legend, “ J^ap- 
partiens d mon maxtreP Helvellyn had visited his 
jeweller, had selected a fine string of pearls, and 
was waiting for a particular occasion on which to 
present them. His aunt, the Duke’s sister, one of 
the greatest ladies in England, was giving an 
entertainment in honour of a foreign royalty then 
on a visit to our shores. He had obtained the 
highly coveted invitation for Captain and Mrs. 
Vernon, and it was on the occasion of this func- 
tion, when every person of rank and fashion in Lon- 
don would be gathered together, that he intended 
the pearls to make their dShut. 

Magdalen was lying indolently amongst her cush- 
ions reading a French novel about half-past three 
in the afternoon. She was not going out. All 
the morning had been occupied in trying on 
dresses, and she was recruiting her forces for the 
evening. She had not had much time to think of 
Vivian lately, and, indeed, now she was so per- 
fectly sure of him in her mind, she could afford to 
put him by to a more convenient season. 

Now, she felt, Anthony or anyone else might tell 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


261 


him what they chose about her — he would not be- 
lieve them. She had no faintest shadow of doubt 
of his love, and just for the present she was con- 
tent with the knowledge. Later she was resolved 
that he should be made to confess it ; she had 
heard and read so much of the enthralling delights 
of a great passion that some day she meant to ex- 
perience it for herself, but just now it was a luxury 
that could afford to wait. Just as she liked to 
have Helvellyn with her in public so she preferred 
to see Vivian alone — it was a source of real self- 
congratulation to her that he went so little into 
society and that she never met him there. 

Vivian, who would have been gladly received 
and considered as an acquisition anywhere, had, 
on his change of fortune, recognised the fact that 
he could not afford to mix with the men who up to 
that time had been his associates, and with two or 
three exceptions had dropped all but a nodding 
acquaintance with them. 

Magdalen, as has been said, was distracting her 
leisure with a French novel when the servant en- 
tered bearing a note and parcel. She waited until 
he had left the room, and then tore open the note with 
a delightful suspicion of its contents. Helvellyn 
begged her to accept the accompanying pearls, and 
to wear them that evening at Trent House. With 
a joyful heart she took the wrappings from the par- 
cel and opened the morocco case. She uttered a 
little cry of rapture as she saw the row of pearls 
nestling in pale blue velvet. She devoured them 


262 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


with her eyes. She did not try them on because 
a high dress was not calculated to enhance their 
beauty, but she sat and gazed as a devotee gazes at 
his god. And she did not dream — how should she ? 
— that Nemesis was approaching with rapid strides. 
It might have been five minutes, even ten, that she 
had been engaged in rapt contemplation of this 
lovely acquisition, when she was startled by loud 
shrieks proceeding from the upper regions. We 
know that she had the virtue of being an affec- 
tionate mother, and in an instant she darted from 
her seat and flew upstairs to see what had hap- 
pened. 

Gladys was uttering a succession of piercing 
shrieks and Archie was roaring a bass accompani- 
ment. 

‘‘What is it? ” cried Magdalen, catching Gladys 
up in her arms and looking angrily at the nurse, as 
though she were the offender. 

“ It is Master Archie,” said the woman ; “ he is 
very naughty ; he has been beating his little sister.” 

This stirring incident necessitated a great deal 
of enquiry and explanation, with subsequent re- 
tributive justice on the offender and much pacifi- 
cation of Gladys. 

Magdalen might have been a quarter of an hour 
in the nursery when her maid came to say that Mr. 
Lloyd was in the drawing-room. Magdalen had 
been so upset by the nursery episode that she had 
forgotten all about the pearls, and it was not until 
she was half-way downstairs that she remembered 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


263 


they were lying open on the table where Vivian 
must inevitably see them. Her heart stood abso- 
lutely still for a moment, then the blood rushed to 
her face. What on earth could she say to him, 
what explanation could she give that would satisfy 
any reasonable man ? There beside them too lay 
the note with a Marquis’s coronet that would leave 
no doubt who the donor was. And that Vivian 
should come to-day of all days — he who never came 
to the house at this time except on Saturdays, 
and then only by appointment. She felt that 
she had a very real grievance against unkind 
fortune. 

As for Vivian, business happened to have called 
him into this neighbourhood, and the delightful 
thought had occurred to him that he might possibly 
get a glimpse of Magdalen. Since the previous 
Saturday she had not been for ten minutes absent 
from his waking thoughts. His heart was full of 
joy as he mounted the stairs to the drawing-room. 
And a few seconds later he had seen the pearls and 
the note with the coronet, and had realised the 
situation. The cup of happiness was dashed from 
his lips — he felt as though a knife had been plunged 
into his heart ; In one moment it flashed across him 
that she had deceived him all through, and that he 
had been a miserable, contemptible dupe in her 
hands. He went to the window and looked out — 
but he did not see anything, only the ruin of his 
love and faith. He even recognised dimly that he 
was being punished for a crime that he had com 


264 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


mitted in loving another man’s wife. It is a truth 
that must have occurred to many of us that we are 
often scarcely conscious that we have sinned until 
the chastisement overtakes us. He heard the 
handle of the door turn, but he had hardly courage 
to meet her face to face — if a minute more had been 
given him he would have fled downstairs and out 
of the house. 

Magdalen knew in an instant by his manner 
that her worst fears were confirmed — at this mo- 
ment she would have foregone the pearls for ever- 
more if by that sacrifice she could have kept 
the knowledge from him. She began rapidly to 
tell him of the scene in the nursery, hoping to 
dissipate the g^ne of the situation, and he listened 
and replied as the occasion seemed to demand, but 
his face remained grey and drawn, and he was only 
thinking how he might get away from her and 
never see her again. She was agonisingly conscious 
of what was passing in his mind, and now that she 
was on the brink of losing him, he became tenfold 
more dear to her. She could not — she would not 
let him go. Well she knew that he would never 
return. It was no use struggling to keep up com- 
pany talk when both their minds fvere riveted on 
this one horrible fact. The evil moment could 
not be long deferred. Her hands were trembling 
with uncontrollable nervousness, her lips quiver- 
ing — the tears rose in her eyes — something in her 
throat threatened to choke her. He saw her emo- 
tion, but this time it filled liim with no pity — he 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 265 

thought bitterly that she was only acting as she 
had done all along. He wondered sadly how a 
woman whom God had made so fair could be so 
false. He rose abruptly — he had no wish to make 
her tell more untruths. She could not explain 
away this damning fact with the Father of Lies 
himself at her elbow. 

“ Good-bye,” he said coldly ; but she sprang to 
her feet. 

“ No,” she cried, “ you shall not go like this.” 

In a moment of time she had seen that there was 
still one hope left to her, and she caught at it. 

“ I know why you are angry — I know what you 
are thinking ; but you are wrong. You have come 
to save me, and you shall save me. Have I not 
always told you that I could be strong if I had you 
to lean on?” 

He looked at her coldly, without the smallest 
sign of relenting in his eyes — this time she might 
bring all her charms, all her subtleties to bear on 
him, but they would be in vain — the awakening 
might be rough and bitter, but at all events it was 
complete. She looked into his eyes — she put her 
hand in his — but he might have been made of 
stone for all the emotion that her touch evoked 
in him to-day. He looked frigidly at her without 
even realising that she was beautiful — he only saw 
her baseness, her treacheiy. 

“ Listen to me,” she pleaded, — “ if you look at 
me with such cold, cruel eyes I shall die — I can- 
not bear it.” 


266 OF THE WOELD, WOBLDLY. 

And the most genuine tears chased each other 
down her fair cheeks. 

He spoke now, his words coming out like drops 
that froze as they fell. 

“ What you do is nothing to me,” he said. “ I 
have been mistaken in you. I have believed in 
you in spite of appearances — now I do not believe 
in you. That can be of no importance to you. 
You are surrounded by friends with bitter sar- 
casm, “ who can be far more useful to you than 
I,” and he looked deliberately at the pearls ; “ it 
only remains for me to make my bow and go. I 
can but feel flattered and surprised that you should 
have thought my good opinion worth taking so 
much trouble to keep ” 

She looked up at him through her tears. 

“ It is not like you to taunt a woman,” she said 
sorrowfully, “ and a most unhappy one.” 

“ Unhappy ! ” 

There was a ring of deep scorn in his voice. 

“Well,” she resumed, with a crushed air, “if 
you choose to leave me, if you insist on condemn- 
ing me, I cannot prevent it. But at least hear 
Avhat I have to say. You never used to be unjust.” 

He composed himself to listen, with an air of 
polite indifference that was not very well acted. 

Magdalen spoke in a low voice : 

“ I was sitting here half-an-hour ago, when the 
parcel and note were brought in. I had not the 
smallest idea what they contained. I had only just 
opened the case, and was looking at the pearls 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


267 


when I heard shrieks from the nursery, and flew 
upstairs to see what had happened. I had had no 
time to think about them. But now,” looking up, 
“ I have had time, and I shall send them back — I 
will write the letter now whilst you are here, and 
I will send it to Lord Helvellyn with the pearls.” 

She had certainly played a trump card, and 
Vivian was staggered. For a moment he was silent. 
Then he said resolutely, 

“Very well — do it! if you care for your own 
reputation, if you have a spark of pride, a spark of 
virtue — fling back his insult. Do you not see that 
it is an insult ? do you not know what it means ? ” 

Magdalen went to the writing-table, and taking 
up her pen wrote steadily : 

“ Dear Lord Helvellyn, 

“I return you the pearls, which I 

cannot accept. 

“ Yours sincerely, 

“ Magdalen Vernon.” 

She handed it to Vivian, asking humbly if it 
would do. Vivian would have liked her to express 
some indignation at Helvellyn’s insolence, but after 
a moment’s pause came to the conclusion that, as 
long as she rejected his gift, the terms in which 
she did it were unimportant. She addressed the 
envelope, and began to put the case back into its 
wrappings, Vivian watching her with eager eyes. 

Once more Delilah had conquered — once more 


268 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


Samson had become as wax in her hands. She 
looked at him with a tender little smile. 

“ See,” she said, “ what you can make me do. I 
have coveted a string of pearls all my life. I never 
wanted anything so much — they are the greatest 
temptation I could have had. And perhaps, if it 
had not been for you, I might have kept them. 
I have always confessed to you how weak I am if 
I am left to stand alone. Think,” fixing her liquid 
eyes on him with a new light gleaming in them, 
“ what might become of me if you carried out your 
threat of leaving me.” 

All the anger was gone from his heart, nay, he 
had never felt so tender towards her as at this 
moment, when she was making this sacrifice for 
his sake, at his instigation. His strong, relf-reliant 
nature was touched to the core by the confession 
of her weakness — what did he ask more of Heaven 
or earth than to be her shield and buckler against 
temptation, against every earthly ill ? 

She read in his eyes that the hour of her triumph 
had arrived. She came close to him, putting her 
nands on his shoulders, and then upwards until 
they clasped his neck. Then she drew his head 
down until his lips touched hers. The blood surged 
madly in his veins, mounted to his brain ; in that 
supreme moment he forgot honour, forgot every- 
thing except that she was fair, and that he loved 
her. He strained her to his heart — had all the 
powers of darkness and terror been arrayed against 
him, he would have recked nothing of them, this 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


269 


ecstasy was sufficient to obliterate all past misery, 
to condone all future pangs. 

Suddenly she tore herself from his embracing 
arms and sprang back a few paces. She made a' 
rapid gesture towards the door, and then, as he 
stood with reeling brain, his senses clouded by the 
momentary sweet madness, it opened, and a man, 
whom by instinct he knew to be her husband, 
entered. The revulsion of feeling was horrible, 
and he stood like an abject criminal caught 
red-handed in a guilty and shameful act. He, Viv- 
ian Lloyd, the strong, the proud, the self-reliant, 
was face to face with the man whom he had all 
along despised as the meanest, most despicable 
wretch in Christendom, and here he was, standing 
ashamed, confused before this cur, afraid of him, 
anxious to propitiate him. He was, indeed, being 
taught the most bitter lesson of his life. 

Magdalen looked perfectly smiling and uncon- 
cerned, there was not even a tremor in her voice as 
she presented the two men to each other, and made 
some natural and light-hearted remark to her hus- 
band about his unusual appearance at that early hour. 
Captain Vernon apparently observed nothing, for 
he came forward pleasantly and offered his hand 
to Vivian, the hand that Vivian had sworn to him- 
self that he would never take. But at this moment 
it did not occur to him to refuse it — he was unut- 
terably relieved that Vernon did not seem to no- 
tice his embarrassment. He could not help wonder- 
ing at Magdalen’s coolness — a vague, horrible sus^ 


270 OF THE WOBLD, WOBLDLY. 

picion smote him that she was not unversed in 
deception. She, for her part, was greatly puzzled by 
this unusual action on her husband’s part, he who 
never by any chance came into her drawing-room 
when another man was there. Stranger still, he 
assigned no reason for his visit, but, taking a 
chair, seated himself, with tire evident intention 
of remaining. He talked to Vivian in a friendly 
manner; asked if he cared for racing or sport, and 
began to discuss the merits of different kinds of 
guns. Vivian had only one desire — to get away. 
The very first moment that he could take his leave 
naturally and without undue appearance of haste 
he rose and wished Magdalen good-bye, and again 
he had to take the hand of the man he had so bit- 
terly despised, but now his heart was so full of 
self-contempt there was no room left in it to think 
ill of the other. 

Going out, he turned his steps towards the Park, 
walking with great strides, as though he would 
fain get away from himself ; from his own thoughts. 
He entered at the Stanhope Gate, and crossed 
towards the Powder Magazine. He had it all to 
himself, and as he went a deep groan threatened 
ever and again to rend his breast. In all the mis- 
fortunes that had befallen him up till now he had 
been comforted by the consciousness of his own in- 
tegrity. Perhaps the one weak spot in his nature 
had been a tendency to self-righteousness — ^he had 
never been weak, and to him weakness in a man 
was a crime. Now he was no more lenient to him- 


OF THE WOULD ^ WOULDLY. 271 

self than he would have been to another ; nay, his 
self-reproach far exceeded in bitterness any con- 
demnation he had ever passed on a fellow-creature. 
He did not say to himself in extenuation, “ The 
woman tempted me ; ” he said, “ It was I who 
should have been strong ; she leaned on me, and I 
was as the reed that pierces the hand which trusts 
to it.” He did not think now that one moment 
of wild joy was enough to condone a lifetime of 
remorse — he did not even remember in his misery 
how unutterably sweet it had been. There was 
only one thing clear to him — that he must never 
see Magdalen again ; he had been no truer friend 
to her than Helvellyn or her husband, the two 
men whom, up till now, he had so uttCfrly despised. 
How was he better than they ? He was not better, 
he was infinitely worse ; more blameworthy because 
he knew right, and it had been his pride that all 
through life he had chosen the straight path. But 
the keenest pang of all was that he had not 
helped, could never in the future help the woman 
he loved. He might preach to himself, might re- 
solve as he chose — he knew that, if he went on see- 
ing her, the same moment of temptation would in- 
evitably come, and that he would again succumb. 

And then, for the first time, he remembered the 
rapture of that embrace. He walked on, on, on, 
taking no count of time or distance. The gates of 
Kensington Gardens were closed, and he turned 
out of the Park and went down Princes’ Gate, and 
on until he came to the river and the embankment 


272 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


at Chelsea. He walked on to Sloane Street and up 
Piccadilly, where he was suddenly stopped and 
accosted. 

“ Vivian, old chap, are you walking for a wager ? 
— what on earth makes you in such a deuce of 
a hurry ? ” 

Vivian pulled himself together. 

“ How are you, Severn ? ” he said ; “ I did n ot 
see you.” 

“ No, by Jove ! nor anyone else, I should think, 
by the look of you. What’s up ? Are you hatch- 
ing a new Gunpowder-plot or what? However, 
you are the very man I wanted to see, and if you 
are so pressed for time I’ll turn and walk with you, 
though not quite at such a break-neck pace, if you 
please.” 

The speaker had been one of Vivian’s greatest 
friends at Eton — one of the few who had insisted 
on sticking to him whether he would or no. He 
was the eldest son of a well-known peer, and his 
mother was Helvellyn’s aunt — the very lady who 
was giving the great entertainment this evening. 

Lady Trent’s was the only great house to which 
Vivian ever went now, but they had all been so 
kind to him, and would not allow him to drop away 
from them in spite of himself. 

‘‘ The fact is,” said Lord Severn, “ I’m in a bit 
of a hole, and I want you to give me a little 
advice.” 

As they walked along, he opened his heart to his 
old friend, and Vivian brought his shrewd common- 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


273 


sense and practical knowledge to bear at once on 
the matter. As, however, it in no way hinges upon 
anything connected with this story, although it 
was not altogether without its influence upon it, 
the conversation need not be repeated. As they 
were about to part. Lord Severn said, 

“ I say, Vivian, I wish you would come to-night 
— it really will be a pretty sight, and a little bit 
out of the common. I know my mother sent you 
an invitation, for I saw it.” 

Vivian shook his head. 

“ Many thanks, but it is not in my line.” 

“ Perhaps you’ll change your mind and think 
better of it. Do, there’s a good chap ! I haven’t 
told' you all I wanted to now, and we might finish 
it up then.” 

A sudden thought darted through Vivian’s 
brain. 

“ Is your cousin Helvellyn going to be there ? ” 
he asked. 

“ Yes, and my mother is in a deuce of a way be- 
cause he persuaded her to send an invitation to the 
beauty, Mrs. Vernon. Now she’^ sorry, because, 
as you know,” laughing, “ she’s an awful stickler 
for the proprieties, and is afraid she may be accused 
of encouraging vice.” 

“ Good-bye,” said Vivian shortly, “ perhaps I’ll 
come after all.” 

“ Do, do,” cried the other heartily. 

Vivian went to his club and made a pretence of 
dining. His usually robust appetite was entirely 
18 


274 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

wanting, indeed he felt as though food would choke 
him. His brain was going like a mill-wheel. Yes, 
he would see Magdalen once again, not in her own 
house, never more would those doors open for him, 
but in public, where, however weak his heart might 
be, there could be no temptation to fold her in his 
arms and bid her an eternal farewell, because there 
would be no opportunity. She would not be able 
to plead with a thousand eyes upon her — to move 
his determination by tears and entreaties, as he 
knew she would essay to do if they were alone. 

At this great gathering he would tell her that 
all was over between them, that he renounced his 
hopes of happiness forever, lest he should be the 
means of bringing harm and evil upon her. He 
knew there was only one way to keep out of temj)- 
tation — ^by avoiding her. Until to-night he had 
felt so strong to help her he had never doubted 
himself, — although he knew that he loved her, he 
had feared no danger for her from his passion. It 
might give pain and suffering to himself, but it 
could never work harm to her. 

Yes, he would see her and he would humbly ask 
forgiveness of her, — he would say, in the lowliest 
self-abasement, mea culpa. By the very throb of 
his heart at the bare thought of seeing her again 
to-night he recognised the absolute necessity for 
cutting himself adrift from her. He dressed, had a 
hansom called, and drove to the house where the 
great entertainment was being held. How sur- 
prised she would be to see him, he who never went 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


275 


to these functions since he had been a poor man. 
It was long since he had felt the least desire to take 
part in them. 

It was a very fine sight, as Lord Severn had pre- 
dicted. Engrossed and harassed as Vivian was by 
his own thoughts, he could not fail to be struck 
by the beauty, the gorgeousness of the scene. He 
made his bow to his hostess, and she shook him 
warmly by the hand and told him cordially how 
glad she was to see him and that she hoped he 
would now come out of his shell a little more. He 
walked through the rooms looking for Magdalen. 
And suddenly in the doorway of one he came upon 
her, a vision of loveliness, all in white. Their 
eyes met, and for a moment both their hearts stood 
still. Then each passed on without the slightest 
sign of recognition. 

She was leaning on Helvellyn^s arm, radiant 
and smiling, and clasping her white throat was his 
collar of pearls. 


276 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


CHAPTER XIX. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

I WAS troubled in my mind, and as is my invari- 
able custom on such an occasion I went to confide 
my uneasiness to Athene. 

“ I am seriously concerned about Vivian,” I said 
to her. “ There is something very wrong with 
him, and I have a horrible suspicion that I am 
responsible for it.” 

“ Tell me,” answered Athene, with her ready 
sympathy. “I think perhaps I may be able to 
make your mind easier. When did you see him? ” 

“ Last night. I wrote a few days ago asking 
him to fix a night to come and dine — you are aware 
we generally meet for that purpose once a week, 
and he excused himself. I am very much afraid 
that he bears malice against me for trying to open 
his eyes about Mrs. Vernon on the last occasion of 
his being my guest. I am very fond of him, as 
you know, and I could not bear the idea of cool- 
ness or estrangement between us. So last night I 
went round to his rooms about half-past ten, and 
there I found him apparently engaged in chewing 
the cud of sweet and bitter fancies, principally, I 


277 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

fear, the latter. He had only his pipe for company 
and neither book nor paper in view. I was at 
once painfully conscious of a change in him. He 
looked worn and haggard, and had deep black 
marks under his eyes.” 

“ Poor boy ! ” murmured Athene. 

I resumed my narrative : “ I tried to affect a 
bright and cheerful tone, as though I remarked 
nothing unusual. 

“ ‘ Well, you old Diogenes,’ I said, ‘ what do 
you mean by sticking in your tub instead of com- 
ing to cheer my solitude ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh,’ he answered, rather shortly, ‘ I am not 
particularly calculated to cheer anyone’s solitude. 
I have a great deal to think of.” 

“ ‘ Anything wrong with business ? ’ I enquired, 
and he answered promptly and decisively in the 
negative. 

“ Then there ensued a pause, during which I felt 
extremely uncomfortable and rather guilty. 

“ ‘ Dear old boy,’ I said presently, ‘ I am a bit 
afraid that I hurt you by what I said the other 
night, and now I feel as if you are thinking me a 
meddlesome ass, and that is why you refuse to 
come near me.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, no, not at all,’ he answered, ‘ you meant 
kindly and you were quite right, but if you don’t 
mind I would rather not re-open the question. 
Mrs. Vernon’s path and mine lie apart for the 
future, and if you please we will never discuss her 
again.’ 


278 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ I took the hint and started another topic, but 
our talk was constrained and I did not stay very 
long, feeling that there was an unwonted cloud 
between us. 

“ Oh, my dear, I wish I had not rushed in like a 
fool, but had left him to find out for himself.” 

“And how do you know,” enquired Athene, 
“ that he has not found out for himself ? Oh, vain 
man ! do you suppose that he took all you said 
that evening upon trust and cut himself ofi from 
her solely at your bidding ? ” 

“ It looks rather like it,” I replied ruefully. 

“ Let me try and throw a little light on the sub- 
ject,” she returned — 

“ I went to Lady Trent’s on Tuesday night, and 
was very well pleased that I had made the effort — 
it was the best done thing I have seen for many a 
long day. I had just arrived, and a friend was 
piloting me through the rooms, when I suddenly, 
to my intense surprise, came face to face with 
Vivian.” 

“ With Vivian ! ” I ejaculated, “ this is quite 
a new departure.” 

“ He hurried past without seeming to recognise 
me, and I knew by his face there was something 
wrong. In the next room I came upon Mrs. Ver- 
non and Lord Helvellyn, he wearing an air of proud 
proprietorship and she smiling at him and looking 
very lovely and radiant. Do you remember, An- 
thony, that I told you the other day nothing you 
could say would cure Vivian of his infatuation — 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 279 

it must be something that she would do — and 
I have a very strong impression that she did it on 
Tuesday night, and ‘hence these tears’ of poor 
Vivian’s.” 

My lips involuntarily formed themselves into 
a whistle. 

“Oh,” I said, and for the moment found no 
further rejoinder. 

But it was a great relief to my mind to think 
it was not I who was altogether responsible for his 
sufferings. 

“ As you know,” Athene went on, “ Lord Severn 
has always insisted on keeping touch with him, 
and has taken him to Scotland and Blankshire to 
shoot, and I know that both Lord and Lady Trent 
have a great regard for him. Now it is borne in 
upon me that Vivian wanted to prove the truth of 
your words by the evidence of his own senses, and 
probably bethought him that this entertainment 
would give him the opportunity. I strongly sus- 
pect that his being there took her unawares, and 
that he must have come upon her entirely unpre- 
pared.” 

“Still,” I remarked, “he knew that Helvellyn 
was constantly beside her in public, so I cannot see 
why he should have been upset by seeing them 
together.” 

“ There is probably more in it than meets the 
eye,” remarked Atherxe thoughtfully, “but from 
his face, I am positive that he had seen something 
which produced a painful effect on him, and the 


280 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


man who was with me and knows him slightly 
made some remark about the wildness of his look. 
So you see it was not pure imagination on my 
part.” 

“ Well,” I returned, “ I suppose we shall know 
more about it some day, but, meantime, if it has 
put a stop to his infatuation it will be a blessed 
thing.” 

“ It will indeed,” answered Athene. 

I was destined to know more sooner than I ex- 
pected. The following morning I received this 
telegram from Mrs. Vernon: 

“ What time can you come to me to-day ? Answer 
paidJ^ 

I groaned in spirit. 

“ Oh ! ” I said to myself, “ she wants me to play 
the part of mediator again.” 

I could not make up my mind at once what to 
reply, and longed to consult Athene. But she was 
out of London for the day, and I had to act on my 
own responsibility. As I was lost in reflection my 
servant gently reminded me that the boy was 
waiting, so in desperation I caught up a pen and 
scribbled the laconic reply : “ Four d'clochP 

Having thus burned my boats, I proceeded to 
ponder on what might be in store for me. Nothing 
very pleasant, I was quite sure ; still, as I am not 
and do not pretend to be devoid of curiosity, I 
consoled myself with the thought that I was going 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


281 


to have the Trent House mystery revealed to me. 
I resolved to remain perfectly firm on one subject, 
she should not wheedle or persuade me by any 
blandishment whatsoever to induce Vivian to see 
her again. If, as I suspected, he had made up his 
mind to close all relations Avith her, I would steadily 
hack him up. I was to learn by painful experience 
that it is not only men of the Samson type who 
are liable to become a prey to lovely and per- 
sistent Delilahs. I meant to be very nice, of 
course ; very kind, very gentle, but very firm. 

My sensations on ringing the hell in Curzon 
Street were very unlike those I had experienced 
on the first occasion, when I stood waiting on the 
threshold, and pluming myself upon the favor with 
which the fair inmate seemed to regard me. I was 
quite aware that, but for my supposed influence over 
Vivian, Mrs. Vernon would not so much as cross 
the road for the pleasure of my society. She 
looked upon me with suspicion and conjectured 
that I had betrayed to him her doings at Monte 
Carlo, — perhaps she was going to reproach me. 
I assumed the boldest air I could muster. 

The room into which I was ushered was partially 
darkened, it was not until I got close up to her 
that I could see Mrs. Vernon’s face, and then I was 
surprised and a little shocked. She was very pale 
and her eyes were red with crying, her lip trembled 
as she gave m^ the customary salutation. Then 
slie sank back in her seat, averting her face from 
me. The cheery greeting with which I had been 


282 OF THE WORLD, IVORLDLY, 

prepared died on my lips and I felt more embar- 
rassed than I had ever done in my life. Suddenly 
she burst into tears, and hid her face in the cushions, 
whilst her whole frame was shaken by sobs. I sat 
helpless beside her, feeling a sort of guilty self- 
reproach that in some measure I was responsible 
for this woe. She was not acting to-day. Thank 
God I have not often seen a woman weep ; I have 
heard a great deal about their tears and the ease 
with which they can at will open the flood-gates 
when the male enemy is to be subjugated and put 
to rout. I once discussed the subject with Athene, 
who is the fountain-head at which I am wont to get 
most of my knowledge. I asked her how one 
was to detect real from simulated grief in her 
sex. 

“If,” she had answered, smiling, “a woman is 
acting, she will press her handkerchief to her eyes 
and exhibit every sign of distress, but she will not 
really cry, because genuine tears are the most un- 
becoming things in the world. The bringing of 
them to the surface causes ugly contortions of the 
muscles, and makes the eyes and nose red — a woman 
must be really overcome by emotion before she will 
allow a man to see her with a red nose. So that 
whenever a woman cries and sobs with a reckless 
indifference to her appearance, you may be perfectly 
certain that her grief or anger is genuine, and pro- 
ceeds from her heart.” 

As the face that Mrs. Vernon presently lifted to 
me was marred and disfigured in the way suggested 


OF THE WOELD, WORLDLY. 283 

by Athene, I felt certain that she was not treating 
me to a pre-arranged scene, but was really distressed 
in mind. I became extremely unhappy myself and 
had never felt so helpless. 

“ Pray, pray don’t cry ! ” I ejaculated at intervals, 
not being inspired with any more consolatory re- 
mark. 

But for a time she wept on, and did not, as I 
have known women do, apologise for her weakness, 
or plead that she was ill or that her nerves were 
unstrung. When at last she succeeded in control- 
ling herself, she attacked me with considerable 
vigour, and I found this phase less distressing. 

“ You always disliked me from the first,” she 
cried between two sobs ; “ you always tried to set 
Vivian against me, and now you have succeeded 
and my heart is broken, and I have no doubt you 
are delighted at your work.” 

Whatever accusations she had brought against 
me at this moment, I am quite sure I should not 
have resented them, so concerned and sorry I was 
at her condition. 

“ Do not say that,” I protested. “ I assure you, 
you misjudge me.” 

‘‘ I do not,” she cried vehemently. “ I had it 
from his own lips that you accused me of being 
always with Helvellyn at Monte Carlo, with tak- 
ing his money and gambling with it.” 

“ Et tu, Brute ! ” I thought dolorously, refer- 
ring to Vivian and his betrayal of me. 

I was silent, and, fortunately for me, instead of 


284 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

proceeding with her arraignment, she asked ear- 
nestly, 

“ Have you seen him ? Has he told you ? ” 

“ I saw him the night before last,” I replied, “ but 
he told me nothing.” 

“ How did he seem ? ” she asked eagerly. “ Was 
he himself, or did you know that something had 
happened ? ” 

“I thought he was rather out of sorts,” I an- 
swered. 

“ Did he not mention my name ? ” 

I hesitated, and she repeated her question 
sharply, 

“I mentioned it,” I said, “but he refused to 
speak about you.” 

“ Ah ! ” she ejaculated, with a long-drawn sigh, 
“ of course he is angry and bitter against me. Oh, 
if I could only see him I could explain everything, 
but,” pressing her hands together, “he will not 
give me a chance — it is cruel of him ! I must, I 
will see him. You,” looking at me with indignant 
eyes, “ have done me so much injury, the least you 
can do is to try and mend it now.” 

I was quite resolved that I would not try to 
mend the breach between them, but I did not dare 
tell her so. 

“ I have written to him three times, she went 
on, and he has taken no notice of my letters.” 

Later I learned that Vivian had been wise 
enough to put these missives into the fire un- 
opened. 


285 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ He must know tlie truth,” she cried, “ and you 
must tell it him.” 

I made a deprecatory gesture, but she was not 
to be trifled with. 

“ You must^'‘ she repeated, with immense energy. 
“You have persistently misjudged me — why, I 
know not — I have never injured you, and now you 
must hear the truth.” 

And then she told me a very pitiful story of her 
husband’s financial embarrassments, and the neces- 
sity for her maintaining a show of friendliness 
with Helvellyn. 

“ I had to tell all this to Vivian,” she proceeded 
somewhat vindictively, “ after you had blackened 
me to him the night he dined with you. He came 
to say good-bye to me, and then I told him the 
truth, and he understood, he believed in me, he 
knew how I was forced into doing what was utterly 
repugnant to my feelings.” 

Poor Samson! I thought. I felt no grudge 
against him for betraying me — he was the last man 
to exculpate himself by throwing the blame on a 
friend. Delilah had wormed the fact from him 
and was making the most of it for my discomfiture. 
She told me about the five hundred pounds with 
which Helvellyn had saved them from ruin — she 
threw out some hints about him and a well-known 
Hebrew in fashionable circles which were ex- 
tremely injurious to the honour of her husband, and 
finally she said, transfixing me with her eyes, no 
longer dim with tears, but shining with anger. 


286 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

‘‘And the pearls ! You have heard nothing of 
the pearls ? ” 

“Not a word,” I replied. “And I would much 
rather you did not tell me ! ” 

“But I will tell you,” she cried, with great 
energy. “ How can you speak to Vivian for me if 
you do not know all ? ” 

I did not dare to say that I was resolved not to 
speak to him, so I remained silent, and she went 
on, 

“Last Tuesday Vivian came to see me. A few 
minutes before I had received a note from Helvellyn, 
and a case containing a string of pearls, which he 
asked me to accept. I was looking at them when 
I heard Gladys scream, and I rushed upstairs to see 
what was the matter, leaving the case open on the 
table. Whilst I was upstairs Vivian called, and 
was shown into the drawing-room.” 

I could not forbear a mental reflection upon the 
strange pranks Fortune amuses herself by playing. 
If she had been in the room when Vivian was an- 
nounced, she would have hidden the pearls behind 
a sofa-cushion, and he would have been none the 
wiser. 

“He saw them,” proceeded Mrs. Vernon, “ and 
was very angry. I had not had a moment to make 
up my mind whether I would accept or refuse them, 
but when he was so put out, I resolved to send 
them back, and whilst he was with me I wrote the 
letter to Lord Helvellyn declining them. Before 
Vivian left, my husband came in, and afterwards, 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 287 

when we were alone, he asked me whar was in the 
parcel, and I told him, and said I was going to send 
them hack. He put himself in a passion — I never 
saw him so angry — and declared that I should he 
the ruin of him if I did, and a great many hitter 
things besides. He tore up my letter and threw it 
in the fire, and positively commanded me to wear 
the pearls at Lady Trent’s that evening. I know 
I am weak. I have always confessed it to Vivian, 
and he could make allowances for me. He has a 
hig mind like most hig men.” 

I had a slirewd suspicion that this shaft was in- 
tended for me ; if so, it was rather unkind, hut I 
was not in the humour to hear malice towards her 
now that she was so unequivocally down. 

“ I hate scenes,” pursued Mrs. Vernon, “and I 
gave in and wore the pearls, and then,” tragically, 
“ almost the first person I met that night was Vivian. 
How could I have dreamed he would he there ? 
and I read in his eyes that he gave me up then and 
there for ever. But he shall not give me up. I 
will not lose him, not if I have to drag myself 
round the room on my knees to him.” 

And then she added a torrent of words that I 
will not repeat, that I did not even tell Athene 
— not that she, dear soul, would have been hard 
upon her. She was one of the few women to 
whom Byron’s scathing indictment did not apply, 
an erring sister claimed her tears as much as any 
other suffering fellow-creature. I could make every 
allowance for the unhappy woman who poured out 


288 OF THE WOELB, WOBLBLY, 

these 111) considered words. She was overwrought, 
she had lost her self-command, she was desperate 
at the thought of losing Vivian. I was so sorry 
for her that I could not even feel shocked. I re- 
flected that she had not been used to combat her 
emotions, and that the time of trial found her un- 
prepared and threw her off her mental balance. 
Then, for the first time, her voice grew soft and she 
deigned to plead to, instead of heaping reproaches 
upon, me. 

“ You will tell him about the pearls, will you 
not ? ” she entreated, “ you will tell him how ab- 
jectly miserable I am? I will swear to him, if he 
chooses, that I will never wear the hateful things 
again, but do, oh, do persuade him to come to me 
once more, even if it is the last time ; — if it is on 
the condition that he never sets foot within my 
doors again.” 

What could I do ? I did what I imagine every 
other man in my place would have done — I prom- 
ised to tell him how she came to wear the pearls, 
more than that I would not bind myself to promise. 
I was to see him that very evening if possible, and 
after the interview to write and tell her exactly 
what passed between him and myself. 

I left her house feeling more thoroughly uncom- 
fortable and dissatisfied with myself than I had 
ever done. As soon as I had recovered from the 
spell of her presence, of her beauty, of her prayers, 
I knew that I did not believe in her, specious 
though her story was. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


289 


I resolved to get my unpleasant mission over as 
soon as possible, and bent my steps towards Vivian’s 
room — it was on the cards I should find him, just 
come from the city. And I did. I remarked that 
he looked even more haggard and drawn than when 
I saw him last. 

“ Are you dining out ? ” I asked, and he replied 
in the negative. 

“ Come and have a chop with me ! ” I said, and 
he consented, not very cheerfully, but somewhat in 
the temper of the unjust judge. 

I went home to assure myself that what had been 
provided for one would be enough for two, and 
left him to follow. . . I was Machiavellian in my 
behaviour during dinner. I am quite certain that 
he never for one instant suspected my intention 
of reverting to the forbidden subject. My conver- 
sation was light, amusing, almost brilliant, and as 
the meal proceeded something of my friend’s old 
cheeriness seemed to come back to him. It was 
not until we were seated cosily over the^ fire, with 
our glasses beside us and a couple of my best Lar- 
ranagas between our lips, that I threw my bomb- 
shell. I did it suddenly, without the smallest 
preparation, and it fell and went off as those 
unpleasant missiles have a way of doing. 

“Mrs. Vernon sent for me to-day, and I have to 
give to you her message. It is no use,” as he made 
a sudden gesture, “ I have to say it, you have to 
hear it, and then I am to report the result.” 

He frowned until his brows almost met. I had 
19 


290 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 

never seen such a hard, angry expression in his 
face. 

“ Is this your idea of the laws of hospitality ? ” 
he asked ; ‘‘ is this the penalty of eating your bread 
and salt, that you rake up the one subject I have 
begged you to avoid ? ” 

“ Look here, old chap,” I answered, “ you know 
my sentiments — you know I desire nothing so much 
as to see you separated for ever from that woman, 
but she got hold of me to-day and wrung a promise 
out of me at the dagger’s point, and it won’t do 
you any harm to listen for five minutes. Make 
your mind easy — I am not going to plead for her. 
Hear me in silence till I have finished, and then 
let out and say whatever is in your mind.” 

His face assumed a stony expression — he said 
not a word, and I took his silence, as one is per- 
mitted to do, for consent. I repeated the conversa- 
tion verbatim, with the exception of that little 
tirade when the lady momentarily lost her head, 
and I did not forget to give him a little dig about 
his betrayal of my confidences. He said "nothing, 
but made an uneasy movement which showed me 
that he felt a twinge of annoyance, if not of re- 
morse. I went straight through without a break 
until the very end. Then I awaited his reply. 

“ My mind is quite made up,” he answered* in a 
hard, uncompromising tone. “ I will never see or 
speak to her again. I have put her letters into the 
fire unopened ; if she wrote to me, every day for a 
year I should do the same. Nothing on earth shall 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


291 


induce me to see her. I do not say a word against 
her — I do not blame her, but it is evident that my 
hope of influencing her was the dream of a vain 
fool. I have not patience for the task of Sisyphus. 
If the effect of my persuasion can be undone by 
someone else ten minutes after I have spent all 
my energies upon it, I tliink you will admit that 
it is lost labour. I believed in her up to Tuesday 
in spite of everything, but my faith is now utterly 
and absolutely destroyed. If she had looked pale 
and unhappy that evening, as a woman would have 
looked who had been forced to do something 
against her will, I might still have made allowance 
for her ; but she was radiant — no one seeing her 
could believe that she disliked or was even indif- 
ferent to her companion, and when she met my 
eyes the expression that came into her face was one 
of conscious and detected guilt. Don’t make any 
mistake, Tony — I neither blame nor judge her — 
but she must go her own way without me hence- 
forth and ‘ dree her weird.’ The world is more 
to her than I or any living being — henceforth let 
her get what satisfaction she can out of it. Now, 
will you do me the favour to consider the discus- 
sion closed for ever ? ” 

“ With all my heart,” I answered. “ But one 
last word. I am to write to her to-night — what 
shall I say?” 

“ Say an3d;hing you like, but make it absolutely 
clear that I will never, so help me God, speak to 
her or look willingly upon her face again.” 


292 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


“ Amen !” I said. 

I knew he was right ; and was not this the con- 
summation for which Athene and I had been 
devoutly praying ! 

When he was gone, I sat down to my disagree- 
able task. 

“ Deae Mrs. Vernon,” (I wrote,) 

“ I have done as you requested me, 
and have faithfully repeated your explanation of 
the incident of the pearls to my friend. He has 
nothing unkind or harsh to say on the subject, but 
he is inexorable in his determination not to see 
you. Perhaps I had better tell you that he has 
not read the letters you have addressed to him, and 
will not read anything you may write to him. It 
is not for me to make any comment. I have 
redeemed a promise which I unwillingly gave you, 
and I regret the pain I fear I am causing you by 
the letter I am now writing. 

“ Yours sincerely, 

“ Anthony Courtland.” 

I went next day to Athene, and told her all that 
had happened. 

“ It is for the best,” she said ; “ but do you know, 
Anthony, now we have attained our wish and 
those two are parted, I cannot help feeling sorry 
for her.” 

“ I am not a bit,” I answered briskly. “ I felt 
sorry yesterday Avhen I saw her in tears, and was 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


293 


almost ready to go and fetch him back to her, but, 
now that my senses are in my own keeping, I rejoice 
at the way things have turned out, and shall begin 
to speculate on the chances of catching Vivian at 
the rebound for our dear little Stella. What a 
wedding present I will give them ! ” 

“ And so will I,” rejoined Athene. “ But don’t 
be precipitate — there is nothing to be done yet for 
a long, long time. And do not flatter yourself 
that you have flnished with Mrs. Vernon or that 
she has fired her last shot. You will probably hear 
from her again before the day is out.” 

And I did, and again the next day and the day 
after that. And when I resolutely refused to call 
in Curzon Street, she came and invaded me in my 
own stronghold and made such a scene that I was 
terrified lest my servant should imagine I was the 
villain who had brought beauty to such a distress- 
ful plight. There, however, the affair terminated 
as far as I was concerned. From that day forth — 
Mrs. Vernon having favoured me with a very pretty 
piece of her mind, and given me to understand that 
Judas would bear favourable comparison with me — 
she cut me dead, and if we met, passed me with tip- 
tilted nose and an expression of scorn that ought 
to have crushed me to the dust, and would have 
done so had I been conscious of in any way mer- 
iting it. 

Between Vivian and me she was as one “ dead, 
forgotten, out of mind,” our old happy relations 
were restored, and we were once more the David 
and Jonathan of old. 


294 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER XX. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

The marriage of Mr. Keith and Miss Violet Wood 
was solemnised with great eclat. Anthony whis- 
pered to Athene at the close of the ceremony that 
Stella looked a thousand times prettier than the 
bride, and she agreed. Anthony became a more 
frequent visitor than ever at Mrs. Wood’s house 
after this event, and indeed came to be regarded and 
treated by the two ladies as a member of the family. 
They did him the honour to consult him on all impor- 
tant occasions, and he not infrequently, when they 
entertained company, occupied the place opposite 
to Mrs. Wood which had recently been filled by 
Keith. His attendance on his liege lady showed 
no falling off in consequence, nor did his devotion 
to her suffer the smallest diminution, but he grew 
more cheerful, much to her satisfaction, and had 
less time to dwell upon his own misfortunes and to 
indulge morbid fancies. So far from feeling or 
exhibiting any jealousy, Athene was genuinely 
pleased at this friendship which she soon perceived 
had an excellent effect upon him. 

Stella made her dehUt^ and her mother was fairly 
surprised by the admiration she excited and her 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


295 


success which was far beyond any that Violet had 
ever obtained. Mrs. Wood had always considered 
her elder daughter by far the prettier and more 
attractive of the two, and in her secret heart did so 
still, in spite of the minority in which she found her- 
self. She was heartily pleased all the same to chap- 
eron so successful a debutante., for she liked society 
amazingly and was by no means superior to the 
pomps and vanities of the world, and although the 
last woman to risk a rebuff by putting herself for- 
ward, she was exceedingly gratified at being invited 
to go up higher. She took Stella to a May Drawing- 
room, and the girl looked perfectly lovely in her 
cloud of diaphanous tulle and pure white flowers. 

Anthony and Athene both went to see her 
dressed, and the former presented his young favour- 
ite with her bouquet, over which she expressed as 
much delight as though every flower in it had been 
a gem of price. Mrs. Wood held a tea-party after 
the function, and Anthony slyly inveigled Vivian 
to it, being quite determined that his friend, and, 
as he decreed, her future husband, should see her 
at her fairest and loveliest. And when with con- 
scious pride he asked Vivian later what he thought 
of Stella, Vivian answered with great heartiness 
that she was positively lovely, and that he had no 
idea she would turn out such a beauty. 

“ And,” said Anthony, with great warmth, “ her 
looks are not the best part of her ; ” upon which 
Vivian rallied him and declared laughingly that 
there would soon be another wedding in the family. 


296 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

and Anthony replied that he should not wonder if 
such were to be the case. 

After the Drawing-room, the fame of Stella’s 
beauty was noised abroad — all the* society papers 
mentioned her, and one went so far as to predict 
that she would be the belle of the season. People 
in society began to enquire who Mrs. Wood was, 
and if this girl there was such a fuss about was 
really so very good-looking. 

Since his visit to Monte Carlo, Anthony had be- 
come a warm favourite with Lady Hilldown, who 
bade him frequently to her pleasant house, so he 
too was coming out of his shell. He was exceed- 
ingly pleased at Stella’s success and anxious to 
contribute to it, and with this view he spoke often 
of her to Lady Hilldown ; and the latter, who was 
by no means ill-natured, permitted him to introduce 
the young lady to her, and was the means of pro- 
curing her and her mother some very eligible invi- 
tations. Athene also contributed her share to their 
social advancement, and presently Mrs. Wood’s 
writing-table was covered with invitations to 
houses which twelve months ago she would not 
have dreamed of entering. She had known very 
nice people, as the saying is, but not the fashion- 
able ladies whose footmen left cards at the house 
to-day. She received cards of invitation from 
people she did not know with the compliments of 
someone she did know, though perhaps very slightly. 

Mrs. Wood, who was still quite young enough 
to enjoy social gatherings personally, was in a 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


297 


seventh heaven, indeed much more elated than her 
daughter, who took all the adulation bestowed on 
her with great calmness. If I were to say it gave 
her no pleasure, I should expect the reader either 
not to believe me, or to declare that she was want- 
ing in that very necessary feminine attribute, the 
love of approbation, without which no woman was 
ever really charming. She liked to wear pretty 
clothes, and to have pleasant looks and words 
directed to her, and she was passionately fond of 
dancing. If she had never seen Vivian or lost her 
poor little heart to him, her present life would 
have been one long dream of delight, but since 
there is no rose (figuratively speaking, though 
there is actually) without a thorn, her unrecipro- 
cated passion for him took a great deal of bright- 
ness from the sunshine and colour from the sky. 
It made her armour-proof against the wiles and 
blandishments of the gilded youth who flocked 
about her, and, though she took their attentions 
and pretty speeches in the most friendly manner, 
they were soon made to feel that they were besieg- 
ing an impregnable citadel, and were very much 
surprised and not a little confounded as the convic- 
tion was borne in upon them. A creature so lovely, 
so made for love, to be so hard-hearted ! it was out 
of all reason and experience. This coldness on 
her part naturally increased their ardour, and Mrs. 
Wood was astonished and a little mortified at find- 
ing herself compelled in her daughter’s behalf to 
reject some exceedingly eligible propositions. She 


298 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

and Violet talked the matter over, and came to the 
conclusion that they really had no patience with 
her — they even went so far as to conceive a suspi- 
cion that she had taken a ridiculous and unnat- 
ural fancy for Anthony Courtland, and for a whole 
fortnight Mrs. Wood treated that unfortunate 
scapegoat with coldness. After that, however, be- 
coming convinced of the absurdity of such a sup- 
position, she restored him to favour. He had been 
quite aware of what was passing in her mind, and 
smiled a somewhat rueful and melancholy smile to 
himself. Curiously, no suspicion of Vivian crossed 
the thoughts of either Mrs. Wood or Violet — they 
saw so little of him, and Stella did not once betray 
herself in his presence. 

Upon one occasion Mrs. Wood confided her sur- 
prise at Stella’s want of impressionability to Athene, 
and that lady declared that it was really not a 
matter for regret, as she was so very young ; that 
life lay before her, and it was much better for her 
not to make up her mind too soon. Mrs. Wood 
was not satisfied, and could have wept when she 
had to refuse a good-looking young baronet with a 
fine income on Stella’s behalf, and later on the 
second son of a peer, whose heir-apparent was 
considered unlikely to marry. Had the girl no am- 
bition? Oh, there certainly was something very 
wrong about her, and, instead of being pleased and 
flattered by these offers, she cried, and could not 
bear to think she was inflicting pain on the re- 
jected suitors. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


299 


Meantime, Anthony had by no means given up 
his scheme. He was rather alarmed sometimes 
when he saw his favourite surrounded by such 
attractive and ardent young men, but he had con- 
ceived a very high opinion of her stability of mind 
and constancy of heart. She was not so likely as 
most girls to be dazzled by the thought of wealth 
and position. 

Stella had met Mrs. Vernon more than once in 
public, and had observed her with keen though 
stealthy interest. She thought her most beautiful 
and said sadly to herself it was no wonder that he 
should have been devoted to her. Mrs. Vernon had 
also remarked and admired Stella — she was never 
jealous of the good looks of any other member of 
her sex, but she had not the least idea that Vivian 
knew her until one evening accident revealed the 
fact. 

And this is how it happened. She was at the 
play with Helvellyn ^nd several other persons, and 
occupied a box in a prominent position. They came 
in rather late, and not so quietly but that their entry 
made some little stir. Magdalen had not improved 
in any way since we saw her last. She talked and 
laughed in a much louder key ; there was a hard 
glitter in her eyes, and one or two very keen-sighted 
people averred that she had begun to embellish 
nature. If so, she did it extremely well. Certainly 
there was a touch more of the rose amongst the lilies 
of her cheek, and her lashes looked a shade darker. 
She assumed at times a recklessness of manner 


300 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLDLY. 


which contrasted unpleasantly with her former 
modest and reserved demeanour. Evidently the 
persons with whom she associated had not a ben- 
eficial effect upon her. It happened that on this 
evening Anthony had given a dinner to Stella and 
her mother, and had taken them to the theatre ; the 
same theatre as that to which Mrs. Vernon had 
come in company with Lord Helvellyn. Anthony 
had also bidden Vivian, and he made the party 
square and complete. Stella was intensely happy — 
she loved the play, and was too fresh and inexperi- 
enced tc be the least critical, and she had beside 
her the man who was to her thoughts what the first 
walking gentleman is to a comedy. He liked her 
immensely, although up to the present moment love 
in connection with her for himself had never entered 
his head. She was an ideally charming girl, as 
innocent as a dove ; just the sort who would have 
won his approbation if the devil had not set up 
another, and a very different image in his heart, 
since the days when innocence and purity had been 
the attributes he prized most highly in a woman. 
Perhaps he prized them still as much as ever 
in the abstract, but the temper of his mind was to 
abjure the sex altogether at present. The interest 
he took in Stella was rather of a benevolent and 
patriarchal kind — he laid himself out to talk to her 
about the things which he fancied would interest 
her most, not guessing that her one desire was to 
know and to identify herself with the subjects that 
occupied him. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


301 


On this evening Stella was looking her loveliest 
— the delightful excitement which a stirring play 
kindles in fresh young people was thrilling through 
her veins. She did not in the least know what her 
eyes said when she looked into his, and Vivian was 
too devoid of vanity and too proof for the present 
against anything a woman’s eyes could say to read 
the flattering tale to his own advantage. 

As Mrs. Vernon came to the front of the box, 
Stella looked up, as did a good many others of the 
audience. 

“How lovely she looks!” she whispered to 
Vivian, and he, following the direction of her eyes, 
glanced up too, but averted his gaze as quickly. 
His eyes met Magdalen’s for one brief moment, 
but, as on the last occasion of their meeting, neither 
made any sign of recognition. 

But Magdalen had no interest in the play that 
evening — her attention was riveted upon those two 
figures in the stalls, and she read Stella’s secret in 
a moment. A bitter, gnawing jealousy consumed 
her heart — it was her first experience of that ag- 
onising passion. The future unfolded itself before 
her — she saw the groves of Paradise in which she 
might once have dwelt with him, and from which 
she was shut out for ever. And, as she was making 
this cruel reflection, Helvellyn breathed his noisy 
whisper in her ear. 

“ That’s the new beauty down there with Court- 
land, and, by-tlie-way, isn’t that the chap next to 
her who came in on the first day I ever called on 


302 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY, 

you? I remember wishing him at the deuce. 
She’s a sweet, pretty girl, and she’s very much 
gone on him ; I wish she’d look at me like that.” 

“I daresay she would,” answered Magdalen 
coldly, and a little spitefully. 

“ I shouldn’t mind trying to make her,” remarked 
his lordship, with his usual delicate good taste, 
“only it’s so risky making up to a girl — you get 
collared before you know where you are.” 

Aftpr that first look Vivian never even raised 
his eyes to the box again. Magdalen had a burn- 
ing desire to meet his look once more. She even 
talked loud and made herself conspicuous in the 
hope of attracting his attention, but though she 
caused a great many persons to glance up admir- 
ingly, if not always approvingly, Vivian’s face was 
not turned on her again that night. Anthony cast 
a furtive regard at her now and then, not ill-pleased 
that she should be behaving in a manner opposed 
to Vivian’s strict ideas of propriety, and Magdalen 
had an enraged intuition of his thoughts, and hated 
him with great vindictiveness. In her heart she 
laid at his door the blame of her separation from 
Vivian and her subsequent pangs. Now she owed 
him a new misery. She was aware that the Woods 
were friends of his, and supposed he *had introduced 
Vivian to them, and was now doing all in his power 
to bring about a marriage. She remembered to have 
heard that the girl had money, though not enough 
to put her out of reach of Vivian, who was too 
proud to have anything to say to an heiress. 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 303 

Antliony, though only a spectator of the fray, 
had the misfortune to come in for some of the hard 
knocks now and then. 

Stella was conscious of a sensible diminution in 
her pleasure from the moment when Mrs. Vernon 
entered upon the scene. Vivian became silent and 
preoccupied, — although he did not look at the box 
which contained his old love, Stella felt instinct- 
ively that he was deeply and painfully aware of 
her presence. She wondered why no greeting had 
passed between them, since Athene had certainly 
told her that their acquaintance had been renewed. 
It occurred to her that Lord Helvellyn must be 
the cause of this estrangement between them, for 
she was quite sure there was an estrangement; 
and as, from time to time, she stole furtive glances 
at the box and remarked the behaviour of its occu- 
pants, she felt extremely indignant with, not to say 
shocked at, the beautiful Mm. Vernon. With the 
impulsive and ardent partisanship of youth, she 
took a dislike to Lord Helvellyn on the spot, and 
was lost in indignant astonishment to think any 
woman could care for his attentions after having 
been honoured and glorified by the love of Vivian. 
She made her poor little effort to distract the 
thoughts of the man beside her, but with not much 
more result than on that previous occasion when 
Mrs. Vernon had come between them — to-niglit, 
however, there was no one on Vivian’s other side 
to take away his attention from her. He was very 
kind still ; he smiled at her and responded to all 


304 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

she had to say about the play, and even pretended 
to be very much interested in it himself, but the 
eyes of love cannot be deceived, and she knew that, 
wherever his heart might be, it was neither with 
the performance nor with her. The play was not 
so enthralling now — though, as a matter of fact, 
the second and third acts were greatly superior to 
the first — Stella’s interest began to flag ; there was 
another drama nearer at hand which divided and 
distracted her mind. 

Anthony saw how matters were, and he was not 
ill-pleased that Vivian should see Mrs. Vernon 
under these unfavourable circumstances, but he 
sincerely deplored that dear, innocent little Stella’s 
enjoyment should be spoiled. If Mrs. Vernon had 
conceived ill-will to him, it is certain that he was 
not benevolently disposed towards her. He, how- 
ever, consoled himself with Athene’s remark that 
they had plenty of time before them, and that the 
love of a man which could be diverted '‘Hey, 
presto ! ” from one woman to another, was not likely 
to be of a very high or enduring quality. 

Stella went home with her poor little heart more 
full than ever of love for Vivian, but his heart was 
gnawed by bitter resentment against the woman he 
had so deeply loved, mingled with impatience at 
his own folly in being affected by anything slie 
could do or say now. He had almost fancied him- 
self cured, and now he discovered that the wound 
was ready to open and bleed afresh almost at a 
touch. He longed to get out of the country — he 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


305 


would have given an3dhing to go away to America 
or Australia, or some far-off place where nothing 
could remind him of her existence — he did not 
realise that the wings of a dove could not bear him 
beyond the reach of memory. Only to get away ! 
that is the instinctive desire of the wounded heart, 
and only experience can convince it that time, not 
distance, is the only cure. Wish as he might, there 
was not the smallest chance of his getting away 
for many a month to come, and with a sigh, deep 
as though it were “ plucked up by the roots,” he 
resigned himself to his fate. 

In spite of the suffering that Stella’s hapless 
love caused her, she would on no account have 
eradicated it from her breast had the power been 
given her. She hugged it closer to her, watered 
it with secret tears, and once now and again let a 
little ray of sunshine fall across it when she met 
Vivian, and he was kind to her. There was too 
much of the exuberant vitality of youth in her to 
let her go about always wearing the willow, and 
refusing to he amused or comforted — there was an 
immense deal in her present life to enjoy, and she 
did enjoy it, and seemed bright and light-hearted 
enough to eyes which did not care to look beneath 
the surface. She danced with extreme enjoyment ; 
she had plenty to say, and said it with a certain 
piquancy of manner utterly removed from pertness 
that was extremely attractive, especially to men ; 
and she was always nice and sympathetic to other 
girls, so that they were less spiteful about her than 


306 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


might have been the case had she taken less trouble 
to please and be good-natured to them. There was 
nothing so agreeable to Stella as the thought that 
she was liked — it would have been a real grief to 
her to know that she had the ill-will of any single 
human being. Even when, some ten days after 
the visit to the play just recorded, Lord Helvellyn 
was introduced to her at a smart ball and laid him- 
self out to be agreeable, she could not find it in 
her heart to snub him, though she had conceived 
such a dislike for him. Mrs. Wood was positively 
dazzled by her daughter’s success. When Lord 
Helvellyn requested an introduction to her, and 
asked if he might have the honour of calling in 
Cadogan Square, she was so excited that she could 
hardly command her voice to give the conventional 
reply. 

“ Ah ! ” said his lordship to himself — he had a 
very large experience of mothers and chaperons — 
“ she thinks she is going to hook me. I shall have 
to be precious careful.” 

Mrs. Vernon happened to be present at this 
dance, and saw the attention which her admirer 
paid to Stella. She curled her lip in scorn, but 
she did not like it all the same- — ^she knew how 
delighted many a woman would be to see her de- 
throned, and had no intention of giving them that 
pleasure without a struggle. Helvellyn was not 
sorry for the opportunity of annoying her — he had 
suffered a great deal at her hands — ^her temper of 
late had been unbearable, and he was no longer 


OF THE WORLE, WORLDLY. 307 

particularly anxious for those solitudes d deux 
which a lover as a rule covets so eagerly. Coralie 
Bellejambe was a good deal better-tempered, and 
nearly as handsome, and she was always delighted 
to see him and ready to say the most flattering and 
delightful things to him. If a star in the social 
sky should shine out and eclipse Mrs. Vernon, he 
was only too ready to make his bow and leave her 
— he was not sure that “ the little innocent,” as he 
called Stella, would not prove a serious rival to 
the older woman. What a lovely Duchess she 
would make ! and it was rather the rule than the 
exception that Dukes and embryo Dukes married 
girls with very simple preflxes to their names. 
Not that he really had any thought of marrying Stella, 
or any other girl, but one never knows what may 
happen, and there was no harm in thinking about 
it. He would have been pleased to believe he was 
annoying Magdalen, but if such were the case, she 
made no sign, but beamed on him and everyone 
else as though she were undisputed Queen of 
Beauty and Fashion, with not a rival within a 
thousand miles. 

Anthony was a little disturbed in his mind when 
he heard of Helvellyn’s attention to Stella. 

“ Oh ! ” he said to her, feigning to jest, though 
he was really very much in interest, “ so I hear 
you have been dancing with Lord Helvellyn. I 
suppose you have conquered the dislike with 
which his appearance inspired you once upon a 
time.” 


308 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 

And Stella replied without embarrassment, 
although she blushed a little, 

“ One cannot very well dislike a person who 
wishes to he kind and pleasant to one.” 

“ Quite right,” replied Anthony . “I am a great 
stickler for speaking of people as you find them. 
But as a matter of fact, though he may carefully 
conceal the cloven foot from you, he is not a good 
fellow, and I should be sorry if you had much to do 
with him.” 

“ But that is not likely,” rejoined Stella. ‘‘ I 
have never met him but once, and may perhaps 
never meet him again.” 

However, the very next day his lordship made his 
appearance in Cadogan Square, and although Stella 
retained perfect calmness on the occasion, her 
mother was in a flutter of excitement. 

Helvellyn made the very best of himself — per- 
haps beauty and innocence combined had a chasten- 
ing effect upon him — certainly he had never shown 
to so much advantage before, and he felt an agree- 
able consciousness that this was the fact. His con- 
versation was absolutely innocuous, and flavoured 
but very slightly with the slang in which it was 
his habit to indulge, and as he turned his steps 
away from the house he took a healthier and more 
favourable view of women in general than he had 
perhaps ever taken before. He was quite aware 
tliat the mother was ready to prostrate herself in 
adoration before his title and wealtli, but with 
Stella it was quite different. He knew by instinct 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 


309 


that she had not a thought of him beyond the de- 
sire to be polite and kind to a guest in her mother’s 
house — there was not a shade of coquetry in her 
manner, not the smallest evidence that she was 
flattered by his condescension — she was utterly 
devoid of the snobbish adulation of rank, and not in 
the least likely to think more of him because he 
was a Marquis than if he had been the humblest 
commoner. As for comparing him with Vivian, or 
bringing them within a thousand miles of each 
other in her esteem, the idea would have been 
absurd. She almost regretted that she could not 
dislike him, as in her loyalty to Vivian she would 
have wished to do. Mrs. Wood could talk of 
nothing but Helvellyn ; his amiability ; his unaffect- 
edness, even his good looks — for the halo of his 
high position was as the crown of glory with which 
younger women love to adorn the brows of the 
man who attracts them. 


310 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

If Violet had before her marriage received atten- 
tions from such a social star, she and her mother 
would have exchanged the most delightful confi- 
dences and embarked upon the most fascinating 
speculations on the subject, but Mrs. Wood was 
not quite at her ease with her younger daughter, 
and had a shy, uncomfortable feeling in propound- 
ing worldly maxims in her presence. Stella all 
unconsciously gave her an unpleasant sensation of 
smallness and narrow-mindedness, and sometimes 
when the large blue eyes opened upon her with an 
expression as though she were trying to comprehend 
some sentiment which Mrs. Wood knew not to be 
of a very elevated character, she felt annoyed and 
irritated against the girl. She could not but feel 
proud of her, and indeed she was fond of her too 
and had a certain respect for her character, but, oh! 
how she wished it had been Violet who had made 
this success. How they would have appreciated 
and delighted in it together. 

Mrs. Wood was not of the extreme type of the 
worldly mother, but it would not have been in the 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 311 

nature of things had she not been ambitious on her 
daughter’s behalf, delighted by even a remote pros- 
pect of a brilliant future for her. She was quite 
reconciled to the loss of the baronet and the peer’s 
second son, now that this very great parti had ap- 
peared on the horizon. I believe she was honest 
in thinking him charming and a man whom any girl 
might like and be proud to be distinguished by. 
But she could wring nothing more favourable about 
him from Stella than that he seemed kind and was 
a great deal nicer than she had imagined he would 
be. And when Mrs. Wood enquired with some 
sharpness what she knew of him and why she im- 
agined anything at all about him, Stella blushed 
and evaded the question. 

Although Helvellyn had told himself that he 
would have to be extremely careful how he ap- 
proached a marriageable young lady, he was so 
much taken with Stella that he found it difficult 
to keep away from her ; and so it came to pass that 
a great many entertainments were graced by his 
presence (to the delight of the givers) that would 
not otherwise have had a chance of securing his 
presence. He would find out from her or her mother 
what balls they meant to attend, and then as he 
was absolutely certain to have a card for the event, 
as he was on the lists of everyone who presumed 
to put him there, he would appear at the same 
house and thereby fill the heart of his hostess with 
joy and pride. 

It began even to be rumoured that it was more 


312 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


important to secure the debutante than even the 
lovely Mrs. Vernon. Helvellyn could never bring 
himself to forego anything he wanted, so he sought 
Stella’s society constantly, although he took sundry 
precautions which would enable him to draw back 
when he should desire to do so. He did not utter 
a word of love to her, nor did he write a line on 
which any construction but that of simple friendli- 
ness could be placed. He took real pleasure in her 
society, and perhaps the great charm of it was that 
he felt himself a better fellow in her presence and 
under the influence of her purity and innocence. 
She was quite friendly and at her ease with him, 
and made little jokes which he relished" greatly and 
thought immensely clever — he had a considerable 
respect for her talents and common sense, and was 
pleased to say that there was no mistake about her 
head being screwed on the right way. 

Ascot was approaching, and he persuaded Mrs. 
Wood that she must positively take her daughter. 
Mrs. Wood had on several occasions attended that 
fashionable meeting, and had been quite content to 
see the racing from a box in the grand stand or 
the top of a coach — she had never even thought 
of sending in an application to the Master of the 
Buckhounds for tickets for the enclosure. But now 
Lord Helvellyn charged himself with the procur- 
ing of these, and Mrs. Wood, immensely gratified, 
promptly set about ordering two lovely frocks for 
Stella and some rich and suitable apparel for herself. 
She was quite a fashionable lady now, and knew 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 313 

many smart and high-born dames who six months 
ago were ignorant of her existence. She received 
a great deal of attention on her own account too from 
men who either had no hope of making themselves 
agreeable to Stella or who preferred more mature 
charms. The two ladies never appeared in public 
now without a small train of attendants and satel- 
lites. 

This particular Ascot week, the weather left 
nothing to desire, and Stella enjoyed everything 
amazingly — everything but the racing. She had 
never seen a race, and was full of excitement as 
she was hurried to the front to witness the first. 
But when she heard and saw the whips going, a 
sudden pallor overspread her face ; tears started 
to her eyes and she shrank back, feeling sick and 
miserable, and could not be persuaded by any 
inducement, not even when Helvellyn’s own horse 
was running, to witness the, to her, horrid spec- 
tacle again. At the moment when everyone else 
was breathlessly excited and the cry rose, “ They 
are coming,” she would turn her back and put her 
fingers in her ears and be wretched until the 
race was over. Nor would she allow herself to be 
“ put on ” by Helvelljm or anyone else either for 
money or gloves. He laughed at her, but some- 
how, whilst he laughed, he was conscious of a 
heightened respect, an admiration for her, though he 
could no more understand or enter into her feelings 
than he could speak in the Chinese tongue. 

Mrs. Vernon got exceedingly piqued and angry 


314 OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY, 

during this Ascot week, which was such a triumph 
for Stella. She was staying in the neighbourhood 
with a party which included Helvellyn, but he did 
not pay her that attention which she had come to 
consider her right and due, and, on the two days 
when Stella was present, he left her side almost 
entirely to be with the girl. And one evening he 
actually went up to London to attend a dance at 
which the young lady had intimated her intention 
of being present. Mrs. Vernon suffered something 
that, in a better cause, might almost have been 
worthy the name of martyrdom. She was bristling 
with as many arrows shot by kind friends as St. 
Sebastian, and though she preserved her smiles and 
her air of enjoyment, it was under difficulties and 
tortures equal to those of many a victim at the 
stake. Lady Ida bestowed glances of triumph 
upon her, and even went so far as to speak to her 
quite pleasantly, a thing she had never done since 
Magdalen became her rival. She knew the vital 
importance of keeping her temper, especially with 
Helvellyn, but the task was almost superhuman. 
She recognised something of the meaning of the 
poet who wrote, 

“ But to smile on as though one never went aside to weep ! ” 

She could have cried her very heart out with 
rage and vexation. There was only one gleam of 
satisfaction in the whole hateful business, the 
thought of the blow it must be to Vivian, if he 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


315 


cared anything for the girl, to find himself sup- 
planted a second time by Helvellyn. Ah ! if his 
heart was racked, she could bear her tortures with 
a smile. 

One afternoon of the week following Ascot, 
Lord Helvellyn was ushered into Magdalen’s 
di'awing-room. He had come in answer to a sum- 
mons she had sent him. She was in a very bad 
temper, and the consciousness that it would be the 
height of imprudence to display it did not tend to 
put her more at her ease. She was smarting 
under what she considered not only a slight but a 
positive insult. A ball was to be given this even- 
ing by one of the smartest women in London, and 
Magdalen had not received an invitation. It was 
the first great function of the season to which she 
had not been asked, and she was enraged and 
mortified beyond words at the omission. Until 
the last day or two, it had not entered her mind to 
doubt that she would be bidden, but now that 
the very day had arrived she had fallen into de- 
spair. Her only hope was in Helvellyn, and she 
knew that if he chose to exert himself in her be- 
half, she might even at the eleventh hour get the 
sorely covered card. 

The giver of the ball was neither well-born nor 
highly placed in society — she was the wife of an 
enormously wealthy Jew, and by reason of the 
lavishness and magnificence of their entertainments 
they had obtained a foremost place in the smart 
world. You might go to the house of a Duke or 


316 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


to a royal palace, and find yourself rubbing shoul- 
ders with someone no greater than yourself, but 
at Mrs. Engelheid’s you would be certain to meet 
no one who was not distinguished for rank, wealth, 
or beauty. Attendance at her parties was as great 
a cachet of distinction as you could possibly win. 
To-night half a dozen royalties ^vould be there 
and the whole cream and flower of the aristocracy. 
Magdalen had dined at the house nd^t a month ^go. 
She had an awful presentiment thajt her prestige 
and power must be on the wane if IV^rs. Engelheid 
omitted to invite her. And^ her despair she sent 
for Helvellyn. She saw by ml-^tSce in a moment 
that he was not in a mood favourable to her de- 
signs, and his manner was fai/' from encouraging. 

“Well!” he said, “what/can I do for you?” 
But he did not say it in the tone which he would 
once have employed, and which she could have in- 
terpreted into “ Command, and I fly to do your 
bidding.” 

“ You can do a great deal,” she ans'vvered, smil- 
ing sweetly. “ I am more vexed and worried than 
I can tell you. Would you believe it, Mrs. Engel- 
heid has not asked me to her ball to-night.” 

“ H’m ! ” he replied, but he did not appear to 
have any remark or suggestion to add to that in- 
terjection. 

“I cannot understand it,” Magdalen went on 
nervously, seeing that he was quite unsympathetic. 
“ I dined with her not a month ago to meet” 
(and she mentioned an august name). “ She was 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 317 

very civil to me in the Enclosure last week, I can- 
not understand it in the very least. Do you sup- 
pose the note can have miscarried ? ” 

“ Possibly ! ” he ejaculated, without much show 
of interest, and at that moment she would have 
liked to be Jael or Judith or any woman who had 
her enemy in her power. Nail or sword would 
have done her work equally well. 

“ But how can one find out if it is so ? ” she said, 
restraining her anger and looking imploringly at 
him. 

“ I don’t see how you can,” he answered stolidly. 
“ It would be awkward if no invitation had been 
sent.” 

It required a degree of self-control almost super- 
human to prevent Magdalen from flying at him. 

“ You could arrange it quite easily if you chose,” 
she said, in a voice that trembled. “ Even if she 
had not asked me, she would do so now at a re- 
quest from you. Oh, do manage this for me ! if I 
do not go, I shall be utterly wretched.” 

Helvellyn sat looking straight before him. Not 
so very long ago he would have flown to do her 
behest, but times were changed, and his feelings 
had changed with them. He no longer had any par- 
ticular regard for this woman, nor did her loveli- 
ness or her appeal touch him very much. There 
was no generosity in his nature — she had often 
snubbed him, often made liim feel extremely un- 
comfortable, and he was not sorry for the oppor- 
tunity to pay off old scores. 


318 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


“ I don’t suppose my going to lier would do any 
good,” he replied, “and it would be infernally 
unpleasant for me, especially if she refused.” 

“ She would not dare to refuse you,” cried Mag- 
dalen. 

“ Oh, wouldn’t she ! I know she once refused 

to ask a woman when the Duchess of M almost 

went on her knees to her. And she stuck to it.” 

“ The insolence of her ! ” cried Magdalen. “ A 
snob and a parvenue like her.” 

“Yes,” agreed Helvellyn, with a not very pleas- 
ant smile. “ But, anyhow, she is at the top of the 
tree, and can afford to give herself airs. My own 
opinion is that Lady Ida is at the bottom of it. 
She and the Engelheid woman are hand and 
glove.” 

Once more Magdalen humbled herself to plead. 

“Won’t you do this one little thing for me?” 
she urged, with tears in her eyes. “ There was a 
time when you would have done a great deal more 
than that.” 

He was silent, and several thoughts were pass- 
ing through his mind. He was no longer keenly 
anxious to have his name coupled with Mrs. Ver- 
non’s — on the contrary, now that he entertained 
serious thoughts of Stella, he desired that the 
episode with Magdalen should be forgotten. He 
formed a sufficiently correct estimate of his young 
.love to feel sure that his connection with a married 
woman would be no passport to her favour, but 
rather an insuperable barrier. If he were to ask 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 319 

for this invitation, the fact would be sure to leak 
out and might do him a great deal of harm. No ! 
he would not ask. He had not the gift of refusing 
gracefully, and he said bluntly, 

“ No, it’s no use, I can’t do it ! ” 

She sat speechless ; more mortified than she had 
ever been in her life before. He did not attempt 
to break the silence. At last, with a desperate 
effort to control her voice, she said, 

“Perhaps, if you will not do this for me, you 
will do something else ? Will you stay away from 
the ball?” 

“No,” he said decidedly, “I cannot do that 
either.” 

Then her anger broke out. If she had nothing 
to hope from him, at least she would gratify her 
rage. 

“Perhaps,” she remarked, in a biting tone, “you 
have already asked a favour of Mrs. Engelheid ; 
perhaps you have got an invitation for Miss 
Wood?” 

“No, I have not,” he answered reddening. “ It 
won’t be a girl’s ball, and she is just as well away 
from it.” 

This remark added fresh fuel to the flames of 
Mrs. Vernon’s anger. 

“ Oh, really,” she observed, in her most disagree- 
able voice, “ this highly moral tone comes admirably 
from you. Pray are you going to marry her? ” 

“ I might do worse,” he answered nettled, “ but 
I am not at all sure that she would have me.” 


320 OF THE WOBLI), WORLDLY. 

“ Oh,” cried Magdalen, with a bitter sneer, “ have 
no fear on that score. Lord Helvellyn has only to 
throw the handkerchief.” 

He looked at her coolly. 

“Women are not all the same,” he replied. 
“ They are not all ready to jump at a man for what 
he can give them.” 

The expression of his eyes was thoroughly in- 
sulting. In a war of words it was by no means 
certain that the lady would come off victorious. 

“ And pray,” the sneer becoming more accen- 
tuated, “ what would the Duke say to your marry- 
ing Miss Wood?” 

“ Oh ! ” he retorted, “ I should think he would 
be delighted. Fathers have to be thankful for 
small mercies in these days, and to go on their 
knees and thank their Maker if they don’t get a 
Gaiety woman for a daughter-in-law ! ” 

“ Coralie Bellejambe, for instance ? ” enquired 
Magdalen, raising her eyebrows. 

“ A man might do even worse than her — she is 
not half a bad little woman. But all the same, 
if you don’t mind, I don’t care to talk about her 
and Miss Wood in the same breath.” 

Magdalen lost all self-control. 

“ I wish her joy of you,” she cried, “ of your 
good temper, your good breeding, all the pleasant 
little ways that make you such a delightful com- 
panion. She may find that even a Duchess’s 
coronet may be dearly bought.” 

A dark flush came into Helvellyn’s face. 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 321 

‘‘ Do you suppose,” he said, in a brutal tone, 
“ that I have not seen through you all along — that 
I ever fancied that you cared a rush about me ? 
You simply made up to me for what you could get 
out of me, and you and your husband played cap- 
itally into each other’s hands. Not that I bear 
him any grudge, poor old chap ! he is pretty heavily 
handicapped, and anyhow he has the grace to make 
himself pleasant and to be grateful for what one 
does for him. I shan’t quarrel with him, I have 
no particular wish to quarrel with you. What I 
have given you, you are welcome to, but now that 
we know each other’s sentiments, and have had 
this little turn of plain speaking, I don’t fancy we 
shall care to see much of each other in the future, 
so now I’ll wish you good-bye.” 

He rose to go, and Magdalen’s heart froze with 
horror. To let him go like this on the top of Mrs. 
Engelheid’s slight meant nothing short of social 
ruin. She loathed him, and she longed to fling 
his gifts in his face and to heap him with scathing 
reproaches, and yet she felt an awful consciousness 
that if she let him depart thus the result would be 
utterly disastrous to her. He had no chivalry, he 
would tell the story to every man and every woman 
of his acquaintance, and would tell it in his own 
way. The men would laugh, and the women 
would be delighted beyond measure. No ! she dare 
not let him go! She sprang to her feet, and 
caught him by the arm. 

“ No, no,” she said, “ do not go in anger ! I did 


322 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

not mean a word I said. I was upset. Forgive 
me.” 

And she clung to his arm, pleading, entreating, 
humbling herself before him, and he stood in stony 
silence, comprehending her perfectly and quite 
unmoved. She continued to pour forth her 
entreaties, and presently a dull glow of triumph 
warmed his heart. 

“ All right,” he said, “ let bygones be bygones, 
but after this it is no use either of us pretending 
to be very fond of each other. You meant what 
you said and so did I, though, perhaps, if we had 
not been worked up we should have held our 
tongues, but we both know it all the same. You 
don’t want people to know that we’ve had a row, 
and, as far as that goes, I am not particularly 
anxious that they should. When we meet in 
public we will be civil to each other, and no one 
need be any the wiser. I think you had better tell 
Vernon, or he might imagine I had turned rusty 
about the money, which I haven’t and don’t intend 
to. He is perfectly welcome to it, and I never 
want to see it again.” 

This, for Helvellyn, was really magnanimous 
behaviour, but it did not in the least soften Mag- 
dalen’s heart to him, and when he was gone she 
flung herself amongst her cushions and tore her 
handkerchief to shreds with her teeth. 

Suddenly she had an inspiration, and, starting to 
her feet, she went to her writing-table, and penned 
a very careful note, and a few minutes later de- 


323 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

spatched it. She was playing a tremendous stake, 
and she sat with heating heart and quivering nerves 
wondering what the result would be. It was not 
made manifest until nine o’clock that evening, when 
a note was brought her containing a card of invitation 
from Mrs. Engelheid. In all her life she had never 
known a moment of such rapture. She rang for her 
maid, and desired her to put out her new ball-dress 
— it was one she had ordered expressly for the 
occasion. 

“ I wish to look my very best to-night, Elsie,” she 
said playfully, and the French woman did her 
utmost to contribute to the fulfilment of her lady’s 
wish. 

The result was perfectly successful, and Captain 
Vernon, who was waiting in the di’a wing-room for 
his wife, gave vent to a most expressive “ By Jove ! ” 
as she entered. She wore Helvellyn’s pearls — she 
looked dazzling — it would be safe to predict before- 
hand that no lovelier woman would grace the ball to- 
night. Mrs. Engelheid received her as graciously 
as though the ball had been given expressly in her 
honour, and in her heart congratulated herself on 
having sent the invitation. Magdalen was marked 
out for high favour, and when with her illustrious, 
partner she found herself dancing in the same 
quadrille with Helvellyn, she gave him a trium- 
phant glance that spoke volumes. 

He was considerably taken aback at first sight of 
her, but he comprehended perfectly what had hap- 
pened, and in his own mind paid a high tribute to 


324 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


her “ devilish cleverness.” Later on he danced 
with her, and no one present could have conjec- 
tured for a moment that such a scene had taken 
place between them only a few hours ago. 

For the present, her triumph was like a cup of 
strong wine to Magdalen, but when the lights were 
out, and her exquisite toilette was laid away in the 
drawer, she recognised with a bitter pang that a 
step downwards had been taken by her quarrel with 
Helvellyn. It was not the first time a woman has 
had cause to rue the gift of a sharp-edged tongue. 
With a little more self-control she might have kept 
his friendship, and he was undeniably the most 
useful friend she had ever had. 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


325 


CHAPTER XXII. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

About a week after Mrs. Engelheid’s ball, Lord 
Helvellyn came to the conclusion that the perpet- 
ual companionship of Stella Wood was absolutely 
necessary to the happiness of his future. He was 
much more in love than he had ever been before, 
and although his idea of the tender passion would 
by no means have come within Athene’s definition 
of what it should be, it was at all events very much 
more worthy the name than anything he had pre- 
viously felt. Like many men who are not good 
fellows aufond, it had been his custom to think 
and speak lightly of women, and to assert that each 
one had her price. If he did not entertain illusions 
about his own personal charms and merits, he was 
keenly alive to the attractions of his rank and sta- 
tion, and had never scrupled to make use of these 
weapons in his duels with the fair, and his belief 
had been thoroughly justified by his experience. 
Now for the first time it dawned upon him that 
they might fail him in the hour of his greatest 
need, and he had a positive conviction that they 


326 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


would not enable him to conquer this young girl if 
they were the only ones he could bring to bear 
upon her. They were potent enough with her 
mother, but she was made of different stuff, and the 
more he recognised this, the more he admired, and, 
as he believed, loved her. What a lovely Mar- 
chioness she would make ! Mrs. V ernon, he declared 
to himself, would not be in it with her — every man 
would envy him. And what a little lady she was ! 
She would not treat him to taunts and gibes as the 
other had done. By George ! what a vixen she had 
looked that day of the Engelheid ball ! She, Stella, 
would want very careful handling — he had an in- 
tuition that if he attempted to make love to her in 
the ordinary way, she would be scared at once, and 
fly off out of his reach. So he put the most care- 
ful guard on lips and eyes, and in fact made of 
himself in her presence a man so unlike the one 
with whom his acquaintances were familiar that he 
hardly recognised himself, although he was con- 
scious of the improvement her influence worked 
upon him, and on better terms with himself in con- 
sequence. He knew she did not care for him at 
present except in the most friendly way, but he had 
the consolation, after much jealous observation of 
her attitude to other men, that he had no rival, and 
not having the opportunity of seeing her in the 
company of Vivian after the night of the play, he 
had for the time forgotten his existence and the 
remark he had made about her on that occasion. 

It was extraordinary how, under the influence of 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 327 

this new feeling, his perceptive faculties quickened 
and grew more delicate. To Mrs. Vernon, and 
other ladies whom he mentally classed with her, it 
had been usual to send flowers which he bought, 
to give dinners and boxes at the play for which he 
paid. But instinct told him that Stella was not to 
be treated in this way, and he thereupon set his brains 
to work to see what he could do to give her pleas- 
ure without hurting her delicacy or putting himself 
in danger of having his good offices rejected. He 
was no longer afraid of compromising himself and 
being pounced upon by her mother — indeed, he be- 
gan to look upon that lady as an ally to be encour- 
aged and propitiated. He knew that Stella loved 
music, and was fond of the opera, and would have 
liked to send her a box at his own expense three 
times a week, but that would be quite out of the 
question. So he betook himself to his aunt. Lady 
Trent, who had a box of her own, and asked her to 
be so kind as to lend it to him one night when she 
did not propose to make use of it. She demurred 
a moment, thinking that he might want it for Mrs. 
Vernon, and then asked liim point-blank to whom 
he wished to lend it, and, when he told her, she 
assented at once. She had heard rumours of his 
attentions to Stella, and had been told that she 
was a charming girl, thoroughly well brought up, 
and had remarked to her son that she was very 
glad to hear of this new attraction ; that it was 
very much better for him than carrying on with 
fast married women and actresses, and that it might 


328 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 

be an excellent thing for him to marry a nice, lady- 
like girl, even though her birth were less exalted 
than he had a right to look for in a wife. She 
smiled benevolently when Helvellyn told her for 
whom he wanted the box, and saict he was heartily 
welcome to it, and that if he would like her to 
invite the two ladies to her next “ at home ” she 
would be pleased to send them a card. And, as 
he joyfully accepted, her ladyship’s fine yellow 
barouche stopped the same afternoon in Cadogan 
Square, and a powdered giant left her visiting-card, 
along with the invitation upon Mrs. Wood. 

When that lady found it on her return from 
driving her gratification knew no bounds — she was 
sure now that Lord Helvellyn’s intentions were 
serious, and, had it been Violet instead of Stella, 
she would have rushed at and covered her with 
congratulatory kisses. But she had a terrible doubt 
of Stella in her heart, and dared make no further 
demonstration than to say it was very kind of Lord 
Helvellyn to have asked his aunt to call. Stella 
was pleased and endorsed her mother’s remark. 

Helvellyn did not order bouquets or trophies at 
the florist’s for his ladye-love — ^liere again his per- 
ceptions showed an increase in refinement ; but 
the Duke had splendid conservatories and orchid 
houses, and Helvellyn sent peremptory orders that 
the finest and choicestblossoms weretobe sent twice 
weekly to the house in Cadogan Square, and these 
offerings of which the young man made light, 
declaring that they would simply wither unseen in 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 329 

the country and that it was a charity to make use 
of them, filled Stella with intense delight. 

Anthony Courtland, coming in one afternoon 
just as the flowers were being unpacked by Stella, 
opened his eyes very wide indeed. He knew some- 
thing of flowers, and perceived that the collection 
of orchids before him would cost something like 
twenty pounds if purchased at a London florist’s. 
Seeing Stella’s delight over them, he began to 
feel uneasy and to tremble for the success of his 
little plot about Vivian. 

“ Upon my word,” he said, looking keenly at her, 
“ it is very fine to be a beautiful young lady and to 
have a Marquis at one’s feet.” 

“ Is he not kind ! ” cried Stella, laughing glee- 
fully and without a shade of embarrassment. “ I 
have the most dreadful remorse now for having 
said disagreeable things about him.” 

“ Oh ! ” returned Anthony, with a shade of cold- 
ness, “so now he is everything that is charming 
and delightful.” 

“ No, not that,” answered Stella, “but T, am sure 
he means to be kind, and if his manners are rather 
rough and awkward, I don’t think he can help it. 
Some people are born like that.” 

Anthony could not forbear to smile at hearing 
the girl so innocently making apology for a man 
who was perfectly satisfied with himself, and whom 
no other woman would probably have presumed to 
criticise. 

So said he smiling, 


330 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 

‘‘ He is a rough diamond, is he, but a diamond 
all the same ? ” 

“ I am sure he has a good heart,” Stella answered ; 
and Anthony did not think it worth while to con- 
tradict her, though he disagreed with her entirely. 

On the occasion of Lady Trent’s box being 
offered to Mrs. Wood, Helvellyn himself suggested 
that Courtland should be invited to make a fourth. 
He was aware of the friendly feeling which Stella 
entertained for that person, and, regarding him as 
perfectly innocuous as far as any lover-like pretenr 
sions went, had sought on several occasions of late 
to propitiate him and had even condescended so far 
as to ask him to dinner. 

Anthony, however, having no inclination to be 
made use of, especially to thwart his own pet pro- 
ject, excused himself, and, though he received the 
other’s overtures whenever they met with perfect 
civility, had no intention of assisting him in his 
suit. For he too was tolerably certain from what 
he had seen that Helvellyn had serious thoughts 
of offering to share his coronet with Stella. 

Still he made no objection to being fourth in the 
party to the Opera, but thought it would be an 
excellent opportunity of witnessing how the two 
young people were affected towards each other and 
what chance Helvellyn had. In his secret heart 
he did not believe the girl was to be won by having 
her senses dazzled, and he was quite sure that 
although Helvellyn was carefully presenting the 
very best side of himself to her notice he would 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY 331 

not keep up his good behaviour very long after 
obtaining possession of what he now coveted. 

The visit to the Opera was not preceded by one 
of those dinners in a club or hotel of fashionable 
resort, but the party were to dine in Cadogan 
Square, where they had, as a matter of fact, a much 
better dinner than, as a rule, is to be had in public 
places. Mrs. Wood had always enjoyed the repu- 
tation of having a good cook. Anthony, without 
appearing to do so, kept a keen watch on the young 
couple, and was really surprised to . see what a 
different man Helvellyn was from the “ offensive 
young snob’ (so he had presumed to dub him) 
whose behaviour had so disgusted him at Monte 
Carlo. Slang he always talked, and probably 
always would, but he made use of no expression 
calculated to shock the delicacy of a young girl, 
and the sentiments which he gave utterance to 
with regard to men and things in general were 
such as to do him no discredit. Most surprising 
of all to Anthony was the fact that he did not make 
love to Stella, but treated her as a man might do 
a girl for whom he had an affectionate and even 
brotherly regard. Anthony became extremely un- 
comfortable and anxious — he thought he disliked 
Helvellyn more in this phase of hon enfant than 
before, since it threatened seriously to endanger 
his dearly-cherished scheme. He saw that the 
would-be lover had a potent ally in Mrs. Wood, to 
whom his manner was also unusually considerate 
and polite. Mothers and chaperons as a rule eii- 


332 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

joyed very scant civility at his hands ; he had never 
been known to take a dowager to supper except in 
his father’s house, where it was imperative. 

Anthony dined with Vivian the next evening, 
and told him about the visit to the Opera. He 
was gratified to see an indignant flush rise to his 
friend’s face, and to hear him exclaim sharply, 

“ Good heavens ! what a monstrous thing to let 
that charming creature marry such a brute ! ” 

For he was even more prejudiced than Anthony 
against Helvellyn — perhaps he had more cause. 

“ You seem to take it for granted,” said Anthony, 
not without malice, “ that she will accept him ! ” 

Vivian groaned. 

“ Oh ! ” he uttered, “ most women are alike — 
they cannot resist the pomps and vanities of the 
world. But she will be wretched — mark my words, 
that brute will break her heart.” 

“ I do not believe he will have the chance,” 
answered Anthony stoutly. ‘‘ I do not think she 
would take a Prince of the Blood Royal if she did 
not love him. My greatest fear is that she may 
really come to like him, for I assure you that he is 
a very different being in her society from what I 
have ever known him before.” 

Vivian looked sceptical. 

The night at the Opera brought Helvellyn to 
the conclusion that he could bear the suspense no 
longer. He had allowed his manner to trench just 
a very little on the lover-like, and had met with no 
rebuff. Stella’s eyes were soft, and she beamed 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

upon him in the most delightful way, and he did 
not comprehend for one moment that it was the 
music which so affected her, and that she was in a 
frame of mind — half ecstatic, half dreamy — in which 
everything seemed enchanted and unreal. All her 
soul was filled with the thought of Vivian, and 
she only looked upon Helvell}^! as a benevolent 
genius who had been the means of giving her this 
great happiness. Helvellyn sat up very, very late, 
and smoked a great many cigars, and walked maii}^ 
miles up and down his room. Of course he would 
like to declare his passion to the object of it, but 
he knew that it would be more expedient to employ 
an ambassador in the first instance. And her 
mother was the only person who could do justice 
to the mission. 

He sent a note to Mrs. Wood, asking her to 
receive him the next morning at twelve o’clock, 
and received with all dispatch a reply summoning 
him to the rendezvous. 

Mrs. Wood was in a flutter of nervous expecta- 
tion. She was quite sure of the nature of his 
errand, and would have been the blithest woman 
in England had she not had a terrible foreboding 
that Stella would not receive his proposal with the 
same emotion of triumph and pleasure. She dared 
not say anything to her before Helvellyn came, 
lest she should have bad news to give him on his 
arrival. Indeed, she thought it wiser to get the 
girl out of the way, and sent her shopping with 
Bates. Then she seated herself at the writing- 


334 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


table where Helvellyn, punctual to Ms engagement, 
found her. She greeted him with so much warmth 
that he began to think that he had been unneces- 
sarily diffident. 

He entered at once upon his subject, and Mrs. 
Wood listened with the most sympathetic and 
interested air. 

“ Have you said anything to her ? ” he asked 
almost at once, and Mrs. Wood replied that she 
had not thought of doing so until he should au- 
thorise such a proceeding. 

She evaded his point-blank question whether she 
thought her daughter cared at all for him, and 
spoke of her being so very young and hardly able 
to form a judgment of her own feelings. 

“ Is there anyone else ? ” asked Helvellyn 
bluntly, and she assured him with absolute confi- 
dence that he need fear no rival, and that she had 
never seen the smallest indication of Stella’s fancy 
being attracted to any member of his sex. 

Then said Helvellyn, 

“ I suppose there is no reason why she should 
not come to care for me ? Of course I’ll give her 
time if she wants it, all I wish to know is that I 
can hope.” 

Even as he uttered the words, his extraordinary 
humility surprised him. He had never yet asked 
for the hand of a woman, and had certainly never 
thought he would come to plead humbly for such 
a gift instead of with the air of one who confers a 
supreme honour. 


336 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

Mrs. Wood expressed herself in the most charm- 
ing and flattering manner, which showed that she, 
at all events, was not insensible of the honour. 

“ When will you tell her ? ” he asked, with some 
eagerness. 

“ It is so tiresome,” she replied, “ that I have 
asked some people to luncheon, and it would not 
do to say anything to her before they came as she 
,will naturally be agitated, but as soon as they have 
left I shall tell her everything. Shall I write you 
the result ? ” 

“ I would rather come and hear it,” he returned. 
“ What time shall I be here ? ” 

“ Five o’clock ? ” she suggested, and his face 
fell. 

He was not accustomed to being kept waiting. 

“ You see,” she went on persuasively, “ they 
might not leave until nearly four, and then I must 
not take her too much by surprise.” 

“ Five o’clock then,” he said, still with a dis- 
satisfied air. 

He really thought that, when a Marquis was 
waiting for an answer, a lot of trumpery people 
might even go without lunch for, once. So did 
Mrs. Wood, but still things cannot always be ar- 
ranged according to individual desire. She hardly 
knew how she got through that luncheon-party, 
she could not afterwards recall a word that she or 
anyone else had uttered, and it was with a mixture 
of equal pleasure and trepidation that about ; 
quarter to four she saw her guests depart. She !;:« 


336 


OF TEE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


sent to countermand the victoria, — there would 
probably be no drive that afternoon. 

“ Stella,” she said, as the girl was about to leave 
the room, “ Stella, love, I want to speak to you.” 
And she put her arm round the girl and kissed 
her. 

Stella responded warmly, she was very affection- 
ate by nature and delighted to receive a -caress 
from her mother. Mrs. Wood was not prone to be 
lavish of endearments. 

Then as gently as possible she led up to her 
subject, eyeing the girl narrowly as she did so, and 
seeing with apprehension the gradual clouding of 
the young brow and the distress in the great e3^es. 
She had gone through a similar scene twice before, 
but then there had not been such tremendous issues 
hanging in the balance. She really felt that if 
Stella proved contumacious she should go out of 
her mind with mortification. But she commanded 
herself to speak very gently and affectionately, 
whilst she pointed out the extraordinary advantages 
offered by this unexpected piece of good fortune. 
But every moment her agonising conviction grew 
that she was holding a brief in a losing cause. 

“ Oh, mamma ! I cannot, I cannot,” cried poor 
Stella, the tears raining down her face, “ do not, 
pray do not ask me to.” 

“ But,” urged her mother, still trying to possess 
her soul in patience, “ you have always seemed to 
like him. I am sure last night anyone might have 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 337 

thought from your manner that you did more than 
like him.” 

“ Oh, mamma ! ” cried Stella aghast. • 

“ It is not,” proceeded Mrs. Wood, “ as if your 
affections were already engaged — if you cared for 
someone else it would be different altogether.” 

For one wild moment Stella thought of flinging 
herself at her mother’s feet, burying her face in her 
lap, and confessing her hopeless love. But the 
shame of it held her back, and she felt instinctively 
that it might only be placing another weapon in 
her mother’s hands. Then Mrs. Wood pleaded 
that she should at least take time to reflect, that 
she should not insist on refusing such an offer 
definitively ; but Stella would not consent to this, 
but declared that never, never under any circum- 
stances could she come to look upon Lord Helvel- 
lyn with the feelings which she considered neces- 
sary to marriage. 

At last Mrs. Wood, seeing the struggle was 
hopeless, burst into a flood of tears. Stella dis- 
tracted would have offered consolation, but was 
repulsed. 

“ Go from my sight, foolish, wicked, ungrateful 
girl ! ” cried her mother. “ I have not patience 
even to bear the sight of you.” 

She would have liked to whip her daughter, and 
I think every mother, nearly every mother, who 
reads these pages will sympathise with her. 

She looked at the clock — it wanted only ten 
minutes to five, and she ran to her room to bathe 
22 


338 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

her eyes and endeavour to obliterate the traces of 
her emotion. 

Punctually to his time Helvellyn was an- 
nounced. 

“ Well ! ” he cried, hardly waiting for the door 
to close behind the servant, “ Well ! ” 

And the unhappy mother had to tell the tale of 
loss and defeat. 

Helvellyn grew a shade paler and his lips quiv- 
ered — he was not accustomed to disappointment. 

“ But surely,” he said, with some anger, “ she 
does not refuse for good and all. Did you tell her 
I will give her time ?” 

Mrs. Wood made an affirmative gesture. 

There was another long pause, and then he said 
sullenly, 

“ I suppose I can see her ? ” 

“I will go and fetch her,” replied Mrs. Wood, 
only too thankful to shift this unpleasant task on 
to the right shoulders. 

In spite of Stella’s prayers and entreaties, she 
insisted on her going to the interview. 

It could not have been very flattering to the 
vanity of any man to s^e the pale, tear-stained face 
which Stella presently offered to Helvellyn’s in- 
spection, and a very bitter feeling came into his 
heart. I think he too would have liked to have 
her whipped. 

‘‘ Well ! ” he said, trying to force a laugh which 
had little ring of mirth in it, “ is it such a dreadful 
idea that you look so woebegone over it ? Do you 


339 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

tliink I want to force you to do auytliing against 
your will ? ” 

She looked appealingly up at him. 

“ Oh ! ” she said, “ I am so dreadfully sorry.” 

“There is nothing to be sorry about,” he an- 
swered, rather roughly ; “ it is not very much I ask 
of you, I only want you to wait a bit and see more 
of me before you make up your mind that I’m such 
a brute you could not stand me at any price ! ” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, looking more miserable than 
before, “ please, please don’t talk like that. I like 
you very much indeed,” with great emphasis. 

“Well! ” he returned, a shade more hopefully, 
“ if you like me very much indeed, why should you 
not get to love me a little some day ? ” 

But she shook her head in the most positive and 
mournful way. 

“ Stay ! ” he said, “ answer me one question. I 
have a right to ask it. Do you care for anyone else ? ” 

Her face was dyed with crimson blushes. Her 
silence answered him. 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed bitterly, “ I see. You need 
not say anything.” Then with a sudden inspiration, 
“ I know. It is that fellow you were with at the 
play in the spring.” 

Still she did not answer — she was overwhelmed 
with shame and confusion. 

“ Good-bye,” he uttered in a hard tone. “ I shall 
not trouble you any more. But it’s on the cards 
that you may some day think you might have done 
worse than become Lady Helvellyn.” 


340 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

“ I shall only be sorry for one thing,” replied 
Stella, with gentle dignity, “ and that is that after 
you have been so kind to me I should have given 
you pain.” 

He was not mollified, but flung from the room. 

Mrs. Wood emerged from the dining-room as he 
rushed down the stairs. 

“ One moment,” she said, beckoning him into 
the room. 

He looked very flushed and angry. 

“ I think,” he burst out, not waiting for her to 
speak, “ you might have been fair and above board 
with me. You would have saved me from making 
a fool of myself.” 

She looked at him in unfeigned astonishment, 
but he took it for a clever piece of acting. 

“ You told me she did not care for anyone 
else.” 

‘‘ Nor does she,” cried the mother indignantly. 

“ She does, she admitted it to me herself this 
moment.” 

But who ? ” cried Mrs. Wood distracted. 
‘‘Who?” 

“ I don’t know his name — the chap who was at 
the play with you and Courtland in the spring.” 

“But,” cried Mrs. Wood, “she hardly knows 
him — he has not the smallest idea of her. It is 
absurd.” 

“ Absurd or no,” he cried angrily, “ that is the 
fact, and if you doubt me, you had better go and 
ask her.” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


341 


Mrs. Wood was crushed beneath the weight of 
her daughter’s folly, and fell into agonised silence. 

“ Of course,” he said, with a dark red flush in 
his face, “ you can tell people if you choose about 
her having refused me.” 

“ Oh !” interrupted Mrs. Wood, “ how can you 
imagine such a thing of me ! ” 

“All right! ” he said, “most women would. 
However, I shall be obliged to you if you don’t. I 
daresay we shan’t meet again for some time — I 
shall most likely go off somewhere in the yacht. 
Good-bye.” 

“ Good-bye,” she said, with mournful tenderness, 
feeling that all joy was going from her life with 
him. “ I cannot tell you,” the tears coursing down 
her cheeks, “ I cannot tell you what a dreadful 
disappointment this is to me.” 

“I daresay,” he replied grimly. “Well, good- 
bye again.” 

She pressed his hand, but he did not respond 
to the pressure, and in another moment the front 
door had closed upon him, and Mrs. Wood believed 
herself to be the most unhappy, the most unfor- 
tunate woman in all Christendom. 


342 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

TOLD BY ANTHONY. 

Athene and I are sitting on a charming lawn 
which slopes down to the river. From time to time 
our eyes are directed from each other to a boat in 
mid-stream. The boat contains two figures — the 
one a tall, athletic young man occupied with a 
punt-pole, the other a graceful, half-reclining form 
of a young girl. These are no other than Vivian 
and Stella, and how it came to pass that they are 
here under the benevolent chaperonage of Athene 
and myself shall presently be told. Providence has 
been on our side, and we fondly hope that this mar- 
riage at least, which we so ardently desire, is in 
course of being made in the celestial regions. But 
let not the reader imagine that so far there is any 
talk of marrying or giving in marriage of these two 
young people, except between my dear lady and 
myself. They are on the most friendly terms, and 
Vivian at all events has shown no symptoms such 
as we are on the eager look-out for ; such as would 
justify our fond hopes. 

I must go back a little and tell how Mrs. Wood, 
distracted by the calamity which had befallen her, 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


343 


and the thought of which might well wring tears 
from the most stony heart, felt herself absolutely 
compelled, like Midas of old, to whisper her secret, 
in spite of the promise which she had made to Hel- 
vellyn. She was pleased to say that she knew she 
could rely absolutely upon my discretion, and that 
I might even share the secret with Athene, in whom 
she had equal confidence. The poor lady seemed to 
entertain a wild hope that between us we might in- 
fluence Stella to a more reasonable frame of mind — 
for herself she declared she had no patience even 
to speak to her, and that she felt positive pain and 
discomfort in being in the same room with her. 

“ To think,” cried the distracted mother, “ of 
this girl being so mad, so lost to all sense of her own 
interests and those of her family ! ” 

I did not dare to hint that Stella’s decision was 
not an unmixed evil, and that a woman, especially 
a refined and sensitive one, stood a poor chance of 
happiness with Helvellyn — the individual man was 
hidden from her by the glamour of his surround- 
ings, and she was prepared to swear that he was 
the most amiable, the most charming, the kindest- 
hearted creature in the three kingdoms. If the 
calamity could only have been staved off for another 
month, she would not have been deprived of several 
pleasures and honors which she had in view. Lady 
Trent’s “ at home” took place the night after Stella’s 
rejection of her nephew, so this eagerly anticipated 
festivity had to be foregone along with several 
others in which Helvellyn was to have borne part. 


344 OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY, 

Whether it was her fancy or not, Mrs. Wood had 
an idea that she was looked a little askance at after 
this event, and it came to her ears that the rumour 
was in circulation that Helvellyn had left London 
in order to escape from her machinations and per- 
secutions. 

“ Of course,” she said mournfully, “ no one will 
believe the truth. How could they ? ” 

She no longer cared to take her daughter out, and, 
as for Stella, there was no more enjoyment for her 
in the gaieties which until lately had seemed so de- 
lightful. She realised now what a difference Hel- 
vellyn had made to her life, and, although she would 
have refused to marry him a thousand times if he 
had as frequently renewed his offer,, still she had 
liked him, and missed him a good deal, to say 
nothing of her remorse at having hurt his feelings. 

Mrs. Vernon took great pleasure in circulating 
the report that the Woods had literally driven poor 
Helvellyn from the country, and she was naturally 
considered an authority, being still credited with 
enjoying his confidence. I heard this from Lady 
Hilldown, but being under an oath of secrecy to 
Mrs. Wood, who really behaved with considerable 
magnanimity under the circumstances, I did not 
dare reveal the truth, though the lady pushed me 
somewhat hard, being, as I have intimated, a very 
shrewd and keen-sighted person. 

It was just when the relations between Stella 
and her mother were strained to the very uttermost 
that Violet Keith, nSe Wood, was so considerate as 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


345 


to fall into delicate health, and send an urgent re- 
quest to her mother to join her at Lucerne, at which 
place her travels had been interrupted. Mrs. W ood 
was not sorry for any excuse that should put an 
end to her participation in the London season, and 
my dear, kind Athene, hearing the news, offered to 
take charge of Stella during her mother’s absence. 
This proposal was gratefully accepted by both, as 
they felt a temporary separation would be an untold 
relief. 

Just before this, Vivian and I had proceeded to 
carry out a long-cherished scheme of taking a little 
house on the river together, and I had induced 
Athene to become our neighbour at a villa of less 
modest pretensions hard by. She thought it right 
to tell Mrs. Wood of this arrangement when she 
invited Stella to be her guest, as she would not for 
the world have done anything that was not perfectly 
straightforward, and was not of those who consid- 
ered that “ all is fair in love and war.” 

But Mrs. Wood made no manner of objection. 
She had lost all interest in and ambition for her 
daughter’s future, having a despairing feeling that 
nothing desirable was likely to happen in this di- 
rection, and I am disposed to believe that she would 
have consented to her marrying Vivian then and 
there only to get this uncongenial daughter off her 
hands. 

It was now the middle of July — Vivian and I 
were already in possession of our new domain, and 
Athene had fixed the date of her departure from 


346 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

London. Stella was overjoyed at being handed 
over to this kind lady — society had of late acquired 
for her a flavour of Dead Sea apples, and I think 
the idea of being in the neighborhood of some one 
who occupied a large share of her thoughts acted 
as a wonderful tonic in bringing back the colour to 
her cheeks and the light to her eyes. Athene bade 
her bring her violin, and they would have a great 
deal of music. 

The two ladies had been installed a fortnight at 
the riverside villa, and I may truthfully say that 
I had never been so happy in my life. The weather 
was heavenly — these two charming creatures did 
their very best to spoil and flatter me, and to 
make me believe that I was absolutely indispensa- 
ble to their comfort and happiness, and as Vivian 
went off early in the morning, and seldom, except on 
Saturdays, got back before five, I spent the greater 
part of my time at the Willows. If the mornings 
were delightful, the afternoons and evenings were 
equally enjoyable — very much more so to one mem- 
ber of the party. Every day, as soon as Vivian re- 
turned and got into his flannels, he and I used to 
row the ladies up or down the river, often staying 
out until nearly nine o’clock, when not infrequently 
we dined with Athene. Once now and then she 
accepted our modest hospitality, and this we 
regarded as a great honour and pleasure, and took 
the utmost pains to make the feast worthy of the 
guests. 

Athene and I watched Vivian lynx-eyed to see 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 347 

if he were becoming any more susceptible to the 
charms of which we thought so highly, and now 
and then we told ourselves with little nods and 
smiles that matters were certainly progressing. 
I confess to having been guilty, for I believe the 
only time in my life, of a breach of my word, but 
it was in such an excellent, cause that I gave my- 
self free absolution for what under ordinary circum- 
stances I should have considered a very heinous 
offence. I told Vivian one evening of Stella’s re- 
jection of Helvellyn, and the “ By Jove ! ” with 
which he greeted the intelligence sounded very 
pleasant in my ears. 

“ Ah ! ” I said sapiently, nodding my head. 
“ I can tell you that girl is very different from the 
ordinary young lady of the period. She will make 
some man very happy one of these days.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Vivian, “ I only hope he will be a 
good fellow and worthy of her as far ” (with a deep 
sigh) “ as any maai can be worthy of a pure good 
woman.” 

I secretly wondered to myself what this sigh 
might mean, and whether this young man had 
something weighing on his conscience of which I 
was not awar^ Was it possible that — but no, it 
was no use surmising ; I should probably be doing 
him injustice, so I put an abrupt stop to my specu- 
lations. 

Every day that I spent in the company of Stella 
added to my affection and regard for her. She 
never uttered a sentiment that was not sweet and 


348 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

womanly. Athene’s influence over her was de- 
lightful, and tended to bring out all her charms 
and graces and to reveal them to every sympathetic 
spectator. I could see by the expression of 
Vivian’s face how thoroughly he approved of her, 
and I was waiting patiently for the dawning of 
something more than mere approval in his regard. 

So now I come back to where Athene and I are 
sitting under the pleasant shade of a cedar. It is 
the very first occasion on which these two young 
people have been permitted to enjoy a solitude d 
deux, and I am devoutly praying that it may have 
a beneficial effect on Vivian, for every girl or 
woman who loves a man is more charming when 
alone with him and removed from the fear of other 
eyes. 

“What do you think, my dear ? ” I said to Athene. 
“ Are his eyes going to open presently, or will he 
continue to be as blind as a new-born kitten ? ” 

“ I think and hope,” she replied smiling, “ that 
time will do for him what it does for the kitten.” 

“ It does not seem in the nature of things,” I pro- 
tested, “ that a man could be much in the company 
of so altogether delightful a creature, and remain 
indifferent to her.” 

“ No,” she answered cordially, “ it does not. Al- 
ways provided that his heart is empty, swept and 
garnished and ready for the reception of a new 
tenant. Do you think it is ? do you think he has 
got over his passion for Mrs. Vernon ? ” 

“ Yes,” I replied, “ I do honestly. You spoke the 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 349 

words of wisdom as you always do when you said 
that he would only be cured when he found her 
out himself. And that I am certain he did that 
time nearly five months ago when he refused to 
read her letters or to hear her defence. He was 
very wretched and downcast for a bit, but now he 
is more like his old self than I have ever seen him, 
and is as cheery and full of spirits as a man need 
be. Indeed, I now want to see him growing soft 
and pensive and silent. I should take this mood 
as a good augury, for a man is never in boisterous 
spirits when he is very much in love. Apropos 
of Mrs. Vernon — I had news of her in a letter this 

morning. D writes me that she is at Cowes, 

making herself extremely conspicuous with a very 
good-looking, but utterly impecunious lad, the 
younger son of an Irish peer (I forget his name), 
and that her husband for the first time on record is 
exhibiting signs of jealousy. 

“ I thought,” said Athene reflectively, “ that she 
was on the look-out for a grande passion when I 
saw so much of her in the spring. I do not know 
why she gave me that idea, but I felt certain of it. 
Poor woman ! ” and she sighed. 

“ She is welcome to a dozen,” I cried heartlessly, 
“ as long as she does not insist on making Vivian 
her affinity.” 

“ It is not a part that would have suited him,” 
replied Athene. “His love would always have 
been at war with his sense of duty and honour.” 

“ It is my impression,” I returned, “ that he had 


350 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 


a very narrow shave, and only escaped, like Job, 
by the skin of his teeth.” 

“ If he could only see,” said Athene, after a ' 
slight pause, “ how much nearer to his ideal Stella 
is than ever Mrs. Vernon was in her best days.” 

“Ah, yes,” I responded, “but that only fits in 
with the general cussedness of things. I daresay, 
if he were brought to see it and they got married 
something would go wrong and they would not be 
happy.” 

“ Why, Anthony 1 ” exclaimed Athene brightly, 

“ I thought you had thrown pessimism to the winds 
and were disposed to think everything for the best 
in the best of all possible worlds ! ” 

“ Ah,” I replied, “I can never manage to remain 
very long in that blissful frame of mind. Things 
do go so hopelessly wrong, and I’ll be hanged if I 
can see the advantage of it either here or here- 
after.” 

“ I never could imagine,” returned Athene, “ why 
everyone should not have been made happy and 
good. What a delightful world it might have 
been!” 

And then I quoted to her, not for the first time, 
perhaps, my favourite old Persian poet, 

“ ‘All, my beloved, could you and I conspire 
To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, 

Would we not shatter it to bits, and then 
Remould it nearer to the heart’s desire.’ ” 

We presently saw the punt returning, and five 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 351 

minutes later the two young people came up the 
lawn together, laughing gaily, and evidently on 
the very best terms with each other and themselves. 
Stella came and took the chair beside Athene. 

“We have a favour to ask,” she whispered, in a 
tone seductive enough to have coaxed a bone from 
a dog. 

And the other looked fondly at her with eyes 
that said, “ You know you have only to ask.” 

“ Mr. Lloyd has promised to give me lessons in 
canoeing, if you consent.” 

“ Oh, my dear child,” cried Athene, looking 
much alarmed, “ you will be drowned ! ” 

“ Not whilst I am by,” laughed Vivian. “ I assure 
you there is no danger. I shall be in another 
canoe at her elbow — it is perfectly safe, and only 
a question of a little practice.” 

“I’ll tell you what,” I joined in, addressing 
Athene, “ I will row you in a nice big boat in their 
wake, and then we can pick them both up if any- 
thing happens.’’ 

“ You will have your work cut out then, Tony,” 
laughed Vivian, “ if you are going to keep up with 
the canoes. But,” turning to Athene, “ have no 
fear. I will hold myself absolutely responsible for 
the safety of my pupil.” 

“ I shall be very anxious,” returned Athene, but 
made no further demur, probably reflecting that 
wL'ilst he was giving her a lesson of one kind, he 
might be learning another on his own account. 

As I said to her afterwards. 


352 OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY. 

“ And you know, my dear, if she tumbled into 
the water and he saved her, it would be delight- 
fully romantic, and after that they would be bound 
to marry each other.” 

“ All the same,” she smiled, “ I would ‘ rather 
their happiness were brought about some other 
way.” 

The evening which followed this afternoon was 
simply delightful. After dinner the ladies played 
duets on the piano and violin, and Vivian and I 
took the two most comfortable chairs, and delivered 
ourselves over to the enjoyment of the hour, for both 
Athene and Stella played with rare pathos and 
charm. From time to time I glanced at Vivian 
out of the tail of my eye, but his were closed, and 
I knew not what thoughts were busy in his brain, 
but had a secret fear that retrospect engaged liis 
thoughts rather than anticipations of the future. 

It was a heavenly night, and Vivian and I went 
for a stroll before turning in. 

“Well!” I remarked presently, “we often 
talked of the summer we would spend on the river 
together, but, upon my word, I never thouglit we 
should have such a gala time.” 

“ But then,” put in Vivian, “ we did not know 
that we should be blessed with such charming 
neighbours. We will mark this summer with a 
big, white stone, Tony. I don’t suppose we shall 
ever have another like it.” 

“Why not?” I cried. “What is to prevent 
our doing the same next year, and the year after? ” 


OF THE WOBLDy WOBLDLY, 353 

“Well!” he replied laughing, “we cannot ex- 
pect Mrs. Keith to send for her mother again in 
this convenient manner, and but for that, you 
know, Miss Stella would not be here now. Or 
most likely she will be married.” 

“ Yes,” I agreed, with a sidelong glance, “most 
likely. It is not in the nature of things that so 
lovely and charming a creature should be left to 
dress St. Catherine’s hair. Who, I wonder, will 
be the next victim ? — she has had three already.” 

“ Oh I ” he exclaimed, in an interested voice, 
“ have there been others besides Helvellyn ? ” 

“ Certainly there have — a baronet and the second 
son of a peer. Not so bad for a girl in her first 
season, eh ? ” 

“ She is very young, ” remarked Vivian. 

“ I have an idea,” I said, and he turned to look 
at me. 

“ What is your idea ? ” 

“ I think that, as she refused these three excel- 
lent offers, she must be cherishing a secret passion 
for some one in her heart.” 

“ No ! ” he cried, and I was pleased at the con- 
cerned tone in which the monosyllable was ut- 
tered. 

“ That is my impression,” I repeated. 

But he interrupted eagerly, 

“ Who has she seen ? Are you speaking at ran- 
dom, or have you anyone in your mind ? ” 

“ I have someone very much in my mind,” I 
replied. 23 


354 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

And then a certain fear and trepidation took hold 
of me, causing my knees to smite each other. I 
knew I was going to try a very hazardous experi- 
ment, but time was drawing on, and perhaps there 
would not be more than a fortnight longer of 
opportunity, and, as we are told, “ L' occasion perdu 
ne revient jamais . Stella once back with her 
mother, she and Vivian would in all probability 
meet no more frequently than before. 

“ Who ? ” he cried impetuously. 

“I don’t think I have any right to say,” I 
replied. “ You know I am very fond of her. I 
have watched her very carefully for the last eight 
months, and there is only one man for whom 
I have ever seen the love-light come into her 
eyes, but I think, dear little angel, she would die 
of shame if she thought anyone suspected her 
secret.” 

“ But the man,” cried Vivian. “ Do you mean to 
say he is such an infernal fool as not to know it, or 
does he not care for her?” 

“ A little of both,” I answered, unable to for- 
bear laughing in my sleeve. “ He does not know 
it, wherein he is an infernal fool, and if he did know 
it, I am not sure the knowledge would make aii}^ 
difference. You see, he is one of those blind moles 
who cannot distinguish the real gem from the false, 
and he has been wasting his heart on a woman who 
was not worthy to unloose the latchet of Stella’s 
shoes.” 

Vivian sighed deeply. The parable evidently 


S55 


OF THE WOULD, WOELDLY. 

went home to him, although he was entirely igno- 
rant of having inspired it. 

“ It is a thousand pities,” I went on, “ because 
she would make such a charming wife. She is as 
innocent as a white dove — all her ideas are charm- 
ing — she is as tender-hearted as the typical woman 
should be — as you know, she is superior to the 
pomps and vanities of the world — she is as beauti- 
ful as an angel, and look at those eyes of hers and 
guess if she could love.” 

Vivian sighed and said nothing. Then suddenly 
I made up my mind to speak. 

“ Do you remember,” I said, with apparent irrel- 
evancy, “ what Nathan said to David after he had 
told his little story, and the Shepherd King had 
expressed his burning indignation thereat ? ” 
Vivian turned and looked at me. 

“ What a rum chap you are, Tony, and what a 
way you have of going from Dan to Beersheba. 
No, I don’t remember, unless,” with a sudden in- 
spiration, “ it was, ‘ Thou art the man ! ’ ” 

‘‘ Exactly,” I returned, with a satisfied smile. 

“ And what do you mean by that ? ” 

“ I mean that thou art the man.” And, not wait- 
ing to give him time to think or speak, I said, “ Oh, 
Vivian, what a blind idiot you are ! Cannot you 
see that you are the man who has taken that dear 
heart captive ? — don’t you know that it is for your 
sake she has refused Helvellyn and the others ? 
Whilst you have been running after the shadow, 
the substance has been waiting for you, and that, if 


356 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

you had only guessed it, you might have been the 
happiest man in the world six months ago, instead 
of the most miserable, as I believe you were.” 

He stopped still in the middle of the road facing 
me, and then said deliberately, “ I don’t believe a 
word of it — I think you have gone mad — stark, 
staring mad ! ” 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


357 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

FROM VARIOUS SOURCES. 

When Anthony told Athene what he had done, 
she was seriously concerned. 

“ Oh, my dear ! ” she said — “ how could you ? 
Do you not know that it is fatal to tell a man that 
a woman is fond of him ? ” 

“We shall see,” he answered, nodding his head. 
“ I shall he extremely surprised if in this c%se we 
do not see an exception to the rule.” 

“ I hope we may,” she returned despondently, 
“ but it is a most dangerous experiment. And as 
for Stella, if she knew it, she would never forgive 
you.” 

“ Bless her dear little heart ! ” returned Anthony. 
“ She never shall know it. You won’t tell her, and 
I’ll swe^r he won’t.” 

“ But what did he say besides that you were 
mad?” 

“ Not a word, not one. He went to bed and slept 
on it, and this morning he was in the most excellent 
spirits, and ate breakfast enough for three. And I 
assumed a bland and unconscious expression, as if I 


358 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 


had forgotten all about the matter. Now you watch 
to-night, and see how he behaves to her, and that 
will tell us volumes.” 

There certainly was a difference in his manner — 
he looked more often at Stella, and there was some- 
thing inquisitorial in his glance, as if he were try- 
ing to read straight into her heart. She was con- 
scious of the change, even if she did not compre- 
hend it, for she seemed to find his gaze embarrass- 
ing, and averted her eyes, and more than once a 
delicate blush stole into her cheek. 

Vivian was extremely keen about the canoe pro- 
ject, and gave Anthony the strictest injunctions to 
have them ready by the following day. Once the 
lessons commenced, these two young people always 
went off together, leaving the other pair to follow 
in their wake in a vanishing distance. 

‘‘ It marches,” Anthony observed to Athene, with 
a satisfied nod. 

“ By the way,” she replied, “ I had a letter from 
Mrs. Wood this morning. I will read you what 
she says.” 

And she proceeded to take from her pocket 
a letter which she imparted to him. Thus it 
ran : 


“ My dear child is now convalescent, and 
we hope that in a few da^^s we shall be able to 
take her back to England by easy stages. I con- 
fidently expect to be in London in ten days’ time. 
I feel that I cannot sufficiently thank you for your 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


359 


great kindness in taking care of Stella, who seems 
to be enjoying her visit amazingly. I fear we have 
put a very severe strain on your hospitality, and I 
do beg that if she is in your way or is preventing 
you from inviting other guests, you will send her 
back to Cadogan Square with Bates, who will be 
quite well able to take care of her. The weather 
is delightful. I need not tell you anything about 
the beauties of Lucerne, as you are so familiar with' 
them, but it is looking its very best.” 

A few more polite expressions brought the letter 
to a close. 

“ You see,” said Anthony, when Athene con- 
cluded her reading, “ we have not so very much 
time to spare, and I have not done so imprudently 
as you appeared to think in giving an impetus to 
Vivian’s thoughts.” 

“We shall see what comes of it,” replied Athene ; 
“ if good, you shall have all the credit.” 

“ And if evil ? ” I enquired. 

“ Why, then,” she answered smiling, “ we will 
say that it is Kismet, and no man can hope to cope 
with that.” 

“ I have a sort of idea,” observed Anthony, “ that 
Kismet means business in the right direction this 
time.” 

“ Amen,” uttered Athene devoutly. “ Amen 
and Amen ! ” 

Meantime Anthony’s words had produced a pro- 
found impression upon Vivian. He scarcely be- 
lieved half that his friend had told him, knowing 


360 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

him to be a very partial person, apt to think unduly 
well of his friends and their attractions, in fact, one 
of those who are apt to regard their geese^as swans. 
Still he gave him credit for a certain amount of 
shrewdness and perspicacity, and did not think him 
likely to run away with a notion that had no 
foundation at all in fact. He was surprised to find 
how extremely pleasing to him was the idea that 
this lovely girl cared for him, and though he could 
scarcely credit the possibility of her having given 
up Helvellyn for his sake, the remote possibility 
of it was exceedingly sweet to him. He began to 
realise that Stella combined in her heart and per- 
son most of, if not all, the attributes with which 
his fancy had endowed Magdalen, with one or two 
more of her own besides. 

Vivian was a great lover of beauty, and as he 
paddled alongside his fair pupil this glorious after- 
noon, eagerly scrutinising her charms, he felt that 
although her type of beauty differed from Mrs. 
Vernon’s, it by no means fell short of it, and she 
had in addition the fascination that is lent by 
extreme youth and freshness. For although Time 
may increase the charms of mind and soul, it 
rarely adds to physical beauty except perhaps by 
adding roundness of contour, and although that is 
very attractive to some men, a great many, more 
especially big men, admire slenderness and delicacy 
of outline when it is not angular. 

Why should he not marry this charming creature 
and be happy ever after, if she really cared for him ? 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


361 


and the blood coursed more quickly through his 
veins at the thought. And every time he looked 
at her, .she grew more fair and desirable in his 
eyes. . Twelve months ago, her fortune would have 
raised a barrier between them, but now that he had 
become a partner in the Bank with a good income 
and the prospect of being a rich man in time, he 
had no need to let this thought trouble him. In- 
deed, he had only one scruple : would Mrs. Wood 
think him good enough for her daughter after the 
brilliant marriages which had been proposed to 
that young lady? He had no wish to take an 
unfair advantage of the opportunities that accident 
had thrown in his way — he would do nothing that 
was not absolutely straightforward and honour- 
able. 

The next morning at breakfast he said to his 
friend, 

“ Tony ! I want to talk to Athene this afternoon, 
so perhaps you will be so good as to take my place 
in coaching Miss Stella. You swim as well as I 
do, so I can trust you not to let her drown.” 

“ Indeed,” said Anthony. “ And pray do you 
suppose that I am less solicitous about that young 
lady’s welfare than you ? I was not aware you had 
a vested interest in her any more than myself.” 

Vivian laughed, and even blushed a little. 

“You are an old donkey,” he said politely. 
“ But will you manage it ? ” 

“ Ah, yes,” returned Anthony, pretending to 
sigh. “ I suppose that all my life I shall have the 


362 OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

pleasant role of third thrust upon me ; to be in the 
way or out of the way for somebody’s benefit and 
convenience.” 

“ Never mind, dear old chap ! Every dog has his 
day. Yours will come too, and then I’ll try to 
make some little return for all the kind things you 
have done for me.” 

So Anthony, having received his orders, con- 
fided them to Athene, and the pair settled how 
Vivian and Athene could best hold their palaver 
without exciting suspicions in the breast of Stella. 
Finally, it was arranged that Anthony should 
drive Stella into Windsor, or vice-versd, in the pony- 
cart just about the time when Vivian would be 
coming to the Willows, and Stella, if she felt 
chagrin at this arrangement, accepted it with a 
gracious smile and pretended to be delighted. 

So that, when Vivian made his appearance, he 
found A,thene awaiting him on the lawn alone. 
After bestowing upon her his usual affectionate 
greeting, he threw himself at once into the heart of 
his subject. 

“ Of course,” he said, “ you know what that 
foolish old Tony has been saying to me. He has 
no secrets from you.” 

“ Only his friends’,” she replied smiling. 

“ Not even those,” he answered. “But I am 
quite sure there is not one of them who would not 
as willingly confide them to you as to him.” 

“ That is very pretty,” she answered. “ And 
now which of his sayings to you are we to discuss ? 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


363 


Or stay,” as she noted a slight embarrassment on 
his face — “ let me guess. It refers to Stella.” 

“ Yes, but I can’t believe it, you know. Dear 
old chap ! from our Eton days he was always 
thinking that everyone else took me at his valua- 
tion, and if I had believed a tenth part of what he 
used to tell me I should have become the most 
conceited ass in Christendom. But — but about 
Miss Stella — it is all pure fiction, is it not?” 

His eyes eagerly scanned Athene’s fora contradic- 
tion of his words, but she said, preserving a some- 
what inscrutable expression, 

“ You know, my dear boy, it would not be quite 
fair for me to answer that question until I know 
a little more about your feelings, and in what spirit 
you would be likely to receive my opinion.” 

He flushed becomingly over brow and throat, 
and after looking away for one brief moment, 
brought his expressive eyes back to Athene’s. 

“ I would give a great deal,” he said, with em- 
phasis, “ to believe only a quarter of what he said.” 

“ Believe then,” returned Athene, with the most 
benevolent smile. 

“ Really ? ” he cried eagerly. “ May I really? ” 

“ Both Anthony and I think so,” she replied. 
‘‘ But it is only what we think, remember, we have 
neither of us heard a word from the dear child’s 
lips to confirm our suspicions, but we are both 
something of students of human nature, and Stella’s 
soul is such a fair and open page that it is not 
difficult for him to read who desires to do so. I 


364 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 


think, if you care for her, you ought to be the hap- 
piest man in the world. Think of the chance of 
being loved by a pure young girl who has never 
had a thought of another man.” 

Vivian buried his face in his hands, and after a 
moment said in a low, almost reverent voice, 

“ I am not worthy of it.” 

“ I think you are,” answered Athene very kindly. 

And she stretched out a hand to him which he 
clasped very eagerly, 

“ But,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “ even 
if I am so fortunate as to be cared for by her, 
how should I be received by her mother ? After the 
offers Stella has had Mrs. Wood will, I fear, look 
upon so humble a person as myself with dis- 
dain.” 

“ I scarcely think so,” answered Athene. “ To 
tell the honest truth, I believe Mrs. Wood has fallen 
into absolute despair over the perversity and un- 
worldliness of the dear child, and looks upon her 
as a hen looks upon the duckling whose vagaries 
she cannot comprehend. She is so hopeless that I 
believe she would actually welcome the thought 
of Stella marrying a man far less desirable than 
you, for fear of a worse thing coming upon her, 
such as eloping with a suitor who had not two- 
pence a year. But you,” smiling, “ are quite an 
eligible parti now, a good deal more so than 
Violet’s husband. I think you will have nothing 
to fear from her, and by next June she will prob- 
ably be able to contemplate a strawberry leaf with- 


365 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY. 

out the pangs the sight of it would inspire in he> 
now. ” 

“ Do you think I ought to speak or write to her 
before I say anything to Stella ? ” asked Vivian. 

“ No, I will take upon myself to say that is un- 
necessary ; indeed I think she would prefer to have 
a fait accompli presented to her. Y ou know when I 
offered to take charge of Stella, and to bring her 
down here, I thought it right to tell Mrs. Wood that 
you and Anthony were to be our neighbours.” 

“ But,” urged Vivian, “ that would not have con- 
veyed anything to her.” 

“I think it would,” replied Athene. “Now I 
will tell you a little secret. I shall not be doing any 
harm, for if you are what indeed I know you 
are, you will only value and cherish the proof of 
the affection you have won all the more.” 

Vivian regarded her with keenest interest. 

“When,” proceeded Athene, “Lord Helvellyn 
was refused by Stella he asked her poin1>blank if 
she cared for anyone else, and though, I believe, 
she did not answer in so many words, he saw by 
her manner that his suspicion was correct, and then 
he taxed her with loving you.” 

“ Me ! ” cried Vivian. “ How in the world could 
he have thought of me in connection with her ? ” 

“ Do you remember,” asked Athene, “ being at 
the play with her and Anthony one night in the 
spring on an occasion when Lord Helvellyn and 
Mrs. Vernon occupied a box within sight of you ? ” 

“ Yes,” returned Vivian. 


366 


OF THE WOELB, WOBLDLY. 


“ Well, he must be a keen-sighted young man, 
for it appears he saw something in her manner to 
you which you were evidently blind to, and when 
she rejected him, he remembered this incident and 
taxed her with it.” 

Vivian was speechless. Was he after all such a 
blind fool ? 

“ Having elicited this confession from Stella, or 
rather, I fancy, from her silence, he proceeded to 
taunt her mother with it, as she had solemnly 
assured him he had no rival. This led to a stormy 
scene between mother and daughter, when I fear, 
even from her own account, Mrs. Wood said some 
very hard and bitter things to Stella.” 

“ Poor little darling ! ” ejaculated Vivian, and 
Athene felt that things were going quite as well as 
she and Anthony could desire, and that before very 
long they would have to pay a visit to Bond Street 
in search of wedding gifts which they had already 
contemplated with equanimity. 

“ So you see,” she concluded, ‘‘ Mrs. Wood will 
not be altogether unprepared for any news that 
you or I may have occasion to send her.” 

Then Vivian again took the hand of his good 
genius, and this time he kissed it and spoke all 
manner of flattering words to its owner. 

Presently Stella and Anthony made their appear- 
ance. Athene looked at her watch. 

“ It is not quite half-past six,” she said. “ I think 
there is time for you young people to take a little 
trip in your canoes, and I,” looking at Anthony, 


OF THE WOULD, WOBLDLY. 367 

“am quite inclined for a row if you are not too 
tired.” 

Vivian and Stella assented eagerly to this propo- 
sition, and, Anthony having declared himself to be 
as fresh as a two-year old, they all embarked. 

Anthony was extremely eager to hear the result 
of Vivian’s confidences, and the two friends came 
to the conclusion that for once all was going just 
as they desired. 

“ Do you suppose,” asked Anthony, as he was 
gently rowing his liege lady in the wake of the 
other pair, “that he will say anything to her 
now?” 

Athene glanced at him with an arch smile. 

“ I have been given to understand, my dear, 
that when these tender explanations take place, 
they are usually accompanied, or at all events fol- 
lowed, by certain demonstrations inimical to the 
balance of a canoe.” 

“Ah, yes, true,” he returned thoughtfully. “I 
will tell you what : There will be a lovely moon 
again to-night, bar accidents — there is nothing like 
the moon on such occasions ; she is the only welcome 
or even possible third — let us send them out in the 
garden after dinner, and then if they do not take 
advantage of it to say and do everytliing becoming 
to their situation — well, we will never give them 
a chance again.” 

“ Do not be afraid,” uttered Athene, in the most 
encouraging tone. 

Meanwhile Vivian was glowing with triumph 


368 


OF THE WOULD, WORLDLY. 


and exultation. He could even forgive himself 
for having been so blind heretofore, since his eyes 
were so delightfully wide open to-day. And yet 
he did not dare to be too confident until the heav- 
enly news had been confirmed by these dear lips. 
He stood just a little bit in awe of Stella, because 
in his humility he felt he was not worthy of her. 
But he would strive to be, so help him God ! — that 
he swore devoutly and reverently to himself. He 
watched her narrowly — he was burning to say all 
manner of words to her, such as spring from the 
hearts of lovers to their lips, and the unsuitability 
of the canoes to the situation occurred to him as 
well as to Athene. 

Curiously enough, Anthony’s suggestion with 
regard to the moon occurred to him also, and he 
looked anxiously to see if there was a cloud even 
no bigger than a man’s hand which might rise to 
veil her lovely and desired face. But no, it was 
as glorious an evening as man could desire, and gave 
promise of being succeeded by a night no less 
fair. 

Once upon a time it was Stella’s eyes which had 
played traitor to her heart, but to-day they were 
down-drooped, for there was so much fire in his 
that she could not meet them without embarrass- 
ment. But for the first time a thrill of delicious 
hope shot through her, and she knew that he 
regarded her in a manner altogether different from 
heretofore. She seemed to fall into a heavenly 
trance — ^she did not care to speak much — happiness 


OF THE WOBLD, WORLDLY, 


369 


invaded her whole being. Her desires were infi- 
nitely less than those of the man — the present 
satisfied her, her cup was full. 

And Vivian, though he did not speak one word 
of love, not wanting to mar or anticipate the bliss 
of by-and-by, put an inflection of tenderness into 
his voice that was honey-sweet to the girl, and 
thrilled her with a new-born joy. 

Anthony and Athene had arranged their little 
plot for leaving the young people together, and 
after dinner the former said, 

“We must go out this glorious night — it would 
be abusing the gifts of Providence to remain in- 
doors.” 

And Athene replied, 

“ Yes, we will give up our music for one night, 
and worship at the shrine of our lady the moon. 
But I must first write a letter ; so, if you young 
people will excuse me, I will join you in two or 
three minutes.” 

“ Ah, that reminds me,” chimed in Anthony, “ I 
never wrote to Grigson to-day as I promised. I 
will do it now whilst I wait for you, if I may.” 

Vivian shot a radiant smile at the pair, perfectly 
comprehending and blessing their benevolent 
stratagem. 

“ Shall we go ? ” he asked of Stella, and she, giv- 
ing a shy assent, followed him through the French 
window. He made straight as a die for the river, 
beside which was a seat, concealed from the house 
and garden by a thick clump of shrubs. 


370 


OF THE WOBLD, WOBLDLT. 


“ Shall we sit here ? ” he whispered, and Stella 
found herself trembling in every limb with a 
strange new feeling that was cunningly mixed of 
rapture and fear. She could not speak because 
her heart was beating so fast, and Vivian was con- 
scious of the hurrying of his own pulses. 

“ What a night ! ” he said presently, looking up 
at the moon — and then he quoted, 

“‘A night for lovers and lovers only ! * 

That is rather hard on the rest of poor humanity, 
is it not ? ” 

And Stella could find nothing more original to 
answer than “ Yes.” 

“ Love ! ” he uttered presently, in deep, tender 
tones, “is there anything on earth so beautiful 
as to love and be loved ? Can there be anything 
better in Heaven ? ” 

He was looking at her as though he would read 
her soul, and she felt his gaze in every fibre of her 
heart, but could not raise her eyes to his. 

“ Tell me,” he whispered, laying one hand on 
hers, which thrilled and quivered at his touch, as 
though every nerve were instinct with separate 
life, “ could you love a man if he were not a thou- 
sandth part good enough for you — if he had nothing 
to recommend him but his love for you, his desire 
to become more worthy of you ? ” 

At this self-depreciation of her idol, Stella’s 
courage and fire leaped up. She looked at him 


OF THE WORLD, WORLDLY, 371 

full; her great, beautiful eyes burning with de- 
votion. 

“ No ! ” she answered, “ I could not love a man 
whom I did not think worthy of me. But,” still 
regarding him steadfastly, “ if I knew he was so 
good and so noble that I could only feel my own 
insignificance beside him ” 

She faltered and stopped. 

One breathless instant, and then her heart was 
beating against his — his lips were pressed to hers, 
and to them it was as though they were the first, 
the only pair in the world, and the garden was as 
the Garden of Eden. 

High up in Oljnnpus there might have been a 
fleeting pang of envy at the bliss of these hand- 
some and passionate young lovers, for it is recorded 
that such feelings are not unknown there; but 
there was not a god or a goddess in all the myth- 
ology with whom Vivian or Stella would have 
cared to change places. 


THE END. 


OF THE WORLD, 
WORLDLY 


DY 

MRS. FORRESTER 

AUTHOR OF 

DIANA CAREW,” “ MY LORD AND MY LADY,” “ FAIR WOMEN, 

“although he was lord,” etc. 


NEW YORK 

LOVELL, CORYELL & COMPANY 

43, 45 AND 47 EAST TENTH STREET 



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